


Anne with a Shard

by ItsThatGuy



Category: Anne with an E (TV), Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: (relatively mild tho), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Bullying, F/M, Gen, Self-Esteem Issues, Tags have been updated, and there's our violence warning, anne's a cape y'all, once again because i could
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 67,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsThatGuy/pseuds/ItsThatGuy
Summary: When Anne's taken in by the Cuthbert siblings after years bouncing around the foster care system, she's got a lot to deal with: a new living situation, a new town, new friends, a new school...Having to hide the superpowers she got from her trigger event a year ago doesn't help matters one bit.An AWAE Parahumans AU.
Relationships: Cole Mackenzie & Anne Shirley, Diana Barry & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 168
Kudos: 147





	1. Chapter 1

“It’s a wonderfully gorgeous landscape, isn’t it? So  _ open _ and full of possibility, yet it has such variety and character already existent within itself. It provides so much scope for the imagination; I love watching it just… rush by out the window like that, presenting itself for the briefest glimpse before fading back into the distance with its mysteries still intact. People say long car rides are boring, but I think that’s just because they don’t have the imagination to really appreciate them, don’t you?”

The older gentleman driving the car--Matthew Cuthbert, she’d gathered--was glancing sidelong at her with a somewhat befuddled expression as she talked. Anne could only surmise that he was taking in her garishly red twin pigtails, the uncontrolled splatter of freckles defiling her face, and her general gawkish appearance. 

“I’m sorry I’m not much to look at,” she said, smiling apologetically. “I promise, I will do my utmost to be a bright presence in your home. To offset the effect, as it were.”

“Oh, um…” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, ran his tongue over his lips. “No, uh, it’s not… you, uh, look just fine.”

“It’s kind of you to say so,” Anne sighed. “Nonetheless, I’ve resigned myself to an existence being… well, ‘plain’ is putting it lightly. I’ve heard it said that a good attitude and a sunny disposition go a long way towards making up for a lack of attractive physical features. I can only resolve to hold to that and hope that it’s true.”

Mr. Cuthbert gave her another glance, and she thought she saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes, but he didn’t seem inclined to offer comment on the matter, so quiet settled over the interior of the car. The radio, which had been murmuring quietly underneath their words as they (well, okay,  _ she _ ) had talked, suddenly became audible again.

_ “...held a public memorial service today for the Halifax Protectorate hero Oculus, who was killed in action during last week’s Leviathan attack in Miami. Rescue and reconstruction efforts are ongoing following the devastating--” _

Mr. Cuthbert’s hand snapped out with quickness uncharacteristic of anything else Anne had seen in the hour or so that she’d known him, switching off the radio and plunging the car into silence. She could hardly blame him. Any of the Endbringers made for an unpleasant topic of conversation, but Leviathan in particular had been a sore point for Canadians ever since the destruction of Newfoundland.

“So,” she said, as much to break the silence as anything else. “What made you decide to bring a poor orphan girl into your home? Have you always wanted a daughter? Perhaps yearned for one all your adult life, but were prevented from having one of your own by some grand tragedy?”

“Oh. Uh…” Mr. Cuthbert’s lips pursed, and the muscles in his face worked slightly. Unlike Anne’s propensity to spill forth a veritable fountain of words at the drop of a hat, he seemed to be the sort of person who required a few moments of contemplation before making any sort of statement. Somewhat like a child’s toy, which needed to be wound up before it could do anything. “Well, you know, I’m retired these days, and we have the room in the house… it used to be the family house, y’know, but it’s just me and Marilla now, and we figured--”

“Marilla’s your wife?” Anne interrupted.

“Huh?” Mr. Cuthbert looked at her, vaguely startled. “Oh, no… no, she’s my sister.”

“So you’re not married, then?” Anne asked. “Widowed, perhaps?”

“Uh--no, no, never did marry. Marilla neither. Just been the two of us for… well, for quite some time now, I suppose you’d say.”

Anne let out a soft, heartfelt sigh, drawing another odd look from Mr. Cuthbert. “There’s something tragically beautiful about it, isn’t there?” she said. “Two siblings, with nobody in the world but each other, quietly living together in their childhood home… it’s like something out of a storybook.”

“Storybook, huh?” Anne thought she caught the crinkle of a smile at the corners of Mr. Cuthbert’s eyes as he looked out at the rood. “Well, I… I have to say, I never really thought of it that way.”

Anne smiled at him. “And as they begin to enter their twilight years, they bring a young woman into their home, trading shelter from the harshness of the world for the brightness of her company…” She leaned towards him, placing one hand on the divider between their seats. “I’m grateful for you and your sister taking me in, Mr. Cuthbert. Really, I am.”

“Oh, uh, Matthew’s just fine.” Another crinkle of a hidden smile. “Ah, here we are, then. Not too much farther.” He eased the steering wheel over in a smooth motion, nudging the car off the main highway and onto an exit.

AVONLEA, the exit’s sign read in bold letters.

“Avonlea,” Anne repeated to herself, murmuring the name to see how it felt in her mouth. It felt promising. As they cruised down the road, dropping to residential-area speeds, a distant glint of light caught her eye, and she surged upright--at least as much as her seatbelt would allow. “Oh, Matthew!” she gasped. “What is  _ that?” _

“Huh?” His head swiveled around to see what she was looking at. “Oh. Uh, that’s… Barry’s Pond.”

The glint had been sunlight reflecting mirror-like off of water; Anne gazed at it through the window, enraptured. “Barry’s Pond…?” she said. “Who on earth is Barry? No, no, that won’t do. I think it should be called… the Lake of Shining Waters.” She turned back to face Matthew. “What do you think of that?”

“What do I think?” he repeated. “Oh, well… it’s a lot more grandiose, that’s for sure.”

She beamed at him. “It  _ is _ a lot more grandiose! That’s a fine word for what it is.” They wound through a few more streets, Matthew making turns here and there on a route that he’d obviously driven regularly for decades. Avonlea was a sleepy little town, the sort of place that still had a “Main Street” that served as the center of commerce, and the number of people who were out and about was far less than Anne would normally expect on a Friday afternoon. Still, she stayed glued to the window, eyes roving for landmarks to memorize. This sleepy little town could well be her home from now on.

Okay, so she thought that every time she got placed in a new home. But it felt especially keenly  _ possible _ this time.

At length they trundled up a road in one of the town’s more far-flung neighborhoods, rumbling to a stop in front of one of the houses. Anne gasped again as she looked up at the building. “Matthew,  _ this _ is where you live?” 

“Yup, this is it,” he confirmed, switching off the ignition.

The house was a grand two-story affair with elegantly pointed gable roofs, painted a pristine white that shone in the afternoon sunlight and provided a perfect base for the vivid green of the trim. “It’s  _ beautiful,” _ Anne sighed. “What’s its name?”

“Name?” Matthew asked.

“Come on, a house as gorgeous as this one needs an equally gorgeous name, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “Well, ah… that seems to be your area of expertise, I’d say. What name would you give it?”

Anne studied the house with intense scrutiny. “Let’s see… those gable roofs, and that lovely emerald green you’ve painted them… I think we should call it Emerald Gables. Wait, no, no. Green Gables. That’s alliterative, it’s better.”

“Green Gables. Hm.” Matthew nodded. “Well, we’d, uh, best get you packed inside.”

Anne couldn’t hold in a squeal as she undid her seatbelt and bounced out the passenger side door; she bounded up to Green Gables’ front lawn as Matthew went around to the trunk of the car to retrieve her suitcase. The house’s front door opened, and a woman with a square, weathered face and graying hair pulled severely back into a bun stepped out onto the porch.

“You’re Anne, then?” the woman, who could only be Marilla Cuthbert, asked without preamble.

“Um,” Anne replied, stumbling to a halt at the sheer, palpable presence of the woman. “Yes. I mean, yes, ma’am. I’m Anne.” She was overcome with the inexplicable feeling that she should be curtsying.

“Hm,” Marilla said by way of reply. Her eyes flicked down and back up again, roving over Anne with an all-too-familiar air of taking her measure. “Well. The house is still a bit in shambles, I’m afraid. Haven’t had much time to pull things together since we got the call.”

“The call…?” Anne asked.

“The social worker,” Marilla explained. “All but threw you at us, trying to get you placed before the weekend. Well, I didn’t have the heart to say no when the woman was so clearly desperate, but it only gave me a couple hours to try and get things ready for you.”

Understanding coiled into Anne’s gut like nausea. “You don’t want me,” she said quietly.

Marilla let out a huff of breath. “Well. Not you  _ particularly, _ not as such…”

“Marilla,” Matthew said warningly, coming up behind Anne.

“It’s the truth, Matthew, that’s all.”

Anne stood rooted to the spot, disbelief edging into despair. Here she’d thought--she’d  _ hoped _ \--that somebody finally wanted her, and it turned out she’d only been taken in out of pity. Not even pity for  _ her, _ but for the social worker who’d been desperately trying to cram her somewhere so she wouldn’t have to look after her for the weekend. Anne’s throat began to itch slightly in the way that presaged tears. More worrying was a familiar sensation underneath her skin, a sort of heat, slight but insistent and growing stronger with each passing second, as if there were a fire inside of her that was trying to burn its way out. She gritted her teeth against it. She could not, under any circumstances, let  _ that _ happen. Not here, not now.

A hand on her shoulder made her flinch slightly, and she turned to see Matthew looking at her with eyes full of kindness. “Let’s get you up and settled in, now,” he said simply.

_ Well, _ Anne thought as he led her inside,  _ at least one of them seems to like having me around. _

The interior of Green Gables was about what one would expect from looking at the outside, with carefully matched sets of furniture and the walls and shelves decorated with various pieces of kitsch--but  _ tasteful _ kitsch, Anne reflected to herself as she took in her surroundings. She suspected that Marilla was in charge of the interior decorating; it all had a certain restraint and precision to it that matched the buttoned-up woman she’d met on the porch.

“Just up the stairs here,” Matthew said, moving ahead of her and shifting the hand that held her suitcase so that he could maneuver it up a narrow stairway.

The stairway led up to a hallway--also fairly narrow, as it happened--and Anne followed Matthew to the end of the hall, which terminated in a room positioned directly under the peak of one of the gables, the ceiling sloping sharply down to either side. Marilla was already inside, surveying the state of the room critically; Matthew set Anne’s suitcase down on the bed and nodded at her as he ambled back out the room and down the hall.

“This was Michael’s room,” Marilla said, glancing at Anne. “We kept it up, kind of had a notion of making it a guest room… only thing is, we don’t really get any guests. So we figured we might as well put it to use another way.”

“Who’s Michael?” Anne asked, frowning as she took a seat next to her suitcase.

“Our brother,” Marilla said. “Elder to both of us. Passed away… a long time ago, now.”

“Oh.” Anne’s eyes widened slightly. “The room’s not haunted, is it?”

Marilla’s head snapped all the way around to stare at Anne in disbelief.  _ “Haunted?!” _ she repeated.

Anne nodded. “I mean… your brother’s spirit doesn’t still… linger here, does it?”

“Of course not, child!”

“You’re sure?” Anne pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around to hug them slightly. “You’ve never been walking down the hallway on a dark, lonely night, and peered into the gloom of this room, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of a shadowy figure with an eerie resemblance to your--”

“Fiddlesticks!” Marilla interrupted. “Of all the fool notions. No, girl, the room’s  _ not _ haunted, and you’ll find it perfectly adequate to your needs.” She spun on her heel and marched out the door with a  _ clomp clomp clomp _ that reverberated down the hallway as the hard soles of her shoes struck the wood of the floor.

_ Who even says ‘fiddlesticks’ anymore? _ Anne pulled at the zipper of her suitcase, beginning to open it, and then stopped. Should she even bother to unpack? Marilla had two whole days to get sick of her before she could throw her out on Monday, and then it’d be back to the social worker in Charlottetown. She’d just have to pack it all back up again…

A soft noise at the door made her look up; Matthew was standing there. “Oh, I just, uh…” He blinked twice, and then his lips pursed as he seemed to summon the words he was searching for. “Welcome home, Anne.”

If all the breath hadn’t left her body at those words, Anne would’ve leaped up off the bed and wrapped Matthew up in the tightest hug she’d ever given anyone. Instead, she could only offer a vague, stunned smile; Matthew smiled at her in return before ambling back off down the hallway.

_ Home, _ Anne thought to herself later that night as she lay tucked into the bed-- _ her _ bed.  _ What a lovely word. _ Her things were all put away, clothes scarcely filling a quarter of the space available in the old dresser, and a paltry collection of knick-knacks scattered across its top. She sighed contentedly as she pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

Maybe she could belong here, after all.

- - -

A sharp knocking at the door intruded into Anne’s awareness, or lack thereof. “Wuzzat?” she said sleepily, raising her head from the pillow. Blurry streaks of red crossed her vision where stray strands of her hair hung in front of her eyes, lit by the rays of morning sunshine streaming in through the windows.

“Anne?” Marilla’s voice called from the other side of the door.

“Wuh?”

Apparently taking this for a sufficient response, Marilla edged the door open and stuck her head inside. “Sorry to wake you,” she said curtly. “I had meant to let you sleep, seeing as I’m sure you had plenty of excitement yesterday, but… well, I’m afraid I’ve gotten us into a bit of a situation here, and you haven’t much time to get ready.”

Anne’s eyes went wide as her brain began to function again, processing Marilla’s words. “Wha…?” she replied eloquently. Had there been some misunderstanding? Was the social worker here to inspect them already, for some reason? Had she been accused of something? Were the police coming to take her away, with only a scant amount of time left to prove her innocence?

“Well, you see, I was talking to my neighbor Rachel earlier,” Marilla said. “And of course I mentioned that you’d come to live with us, and she asked about you, and one thing led to another… well, what it all adds up to is that the neighbors are coming over for brunch so that they can meet you.”

“Oh,” Anne said, feeling slightly let down at the anticlimax. Then she realized that this meant that everybody was coming together to have brunch for  _ her _ \-- _ a feast in my honor! _ \--and got excited again. “Who all am I meeting?”

“Well, Rachel and her husband, of course, and then once I’d invited them it only made sense to invite our  _ other _ neighbors, the Barrys--they’ve got a daughter about your age, so you were going to meet her sooner or later anyway.” Marilla sighed. “We’ve only got a bit under two hours--I’ll need you to wash up and get your nicest clothes on. And Anne… perhaps  _ don’t _ go on about ghosts and haunted rooms when you see them? This’ll be your only chance to make a good first impression.”

Anne nodded seriously. “Nothing happened last night anyway,” she said. “There weren’t any mysterious disturbances while I was trying to sleep, or anything like that.”

Marilla stared at her.

“I mean, um, of course there weren’t,” Anne added quickly. “That is to say, er… I should go hop in the shower.”

One shower later, Anne found herself standing before the dresser, looking down at the clothes she’d stowed in it the previous night. There wasn’t much in the way of decisions to be made, here; she shifted her t-shirts aside to retrieve the only thing she owned that could honestly be called a ‘blouse’, a short-sleeved and collared number in yellow, which was one of the only colors that actually complimented her hair decently. After that, it was a simple matter of donning her least distressed pair of jeans and slipping on socks and sneakers before bounding out the door to her room, down the hallway, and down the stairs to the ground floor.

Marilla was in the kitchen; she glanced out as Anne clomped down the last few steps, skipping the final two with a little leap to the ground. “And what do you call  _ that?” _ Marilla asked, voice sharp. “I told you to wear nice clothes.”

Anne froze in place. “Oh,” she said hesitantly. “These… these are the nicest clothes I have, ma’am.”

Marilla’s expression softened just the slightest bit as she regarded Anne. “I see,” she said. “Well, I don’t suppose there’s much to be done about that at this point. You’re small enough that any of my clothes would be too big for you… unless…” Seeming to come to a decision, she strode for the stairway. “Come.”

Anne followed her back up the stairs to the upstairs hallway, turning to pass through a doorway that had been closed the night before--Marilla’s bedroom, presumably. “This should help a bit,” Marilla said, reaching in her closet to retrieve what turned out to be a small grey shawl and draping it around Anne’s shoulders. “Yes, that’s better. Not the color I would’ve picked for that outfit, but it’s the best we have right now… just needs something to hold it in place.” She crossed to the dresser and retrieved an object from the jewelry box; as she returned, Anne saw that it was a small oval brooch, with studs of amethyst set in a finely worked metal that she knew was probably brass, but couldn’t help but imagine was gold.

“That’s  _ lovely,” _ Anne sighed.

“It was my mother’s, and my grandmother’s before her,” Marilla said, looking just a touch pleased as she used the brooch to pin the shawl together. “It’s one of my most treasured possessions, so you be careful with it, you understand?”

“Of course.” Anne nodded earnestly. “Thank you so much, ma’am.”

“And that’s quite enough of ‘ma’am’,” Marilla added. “‘Marilla’ will do just fine, thank you very much.”

Anne smiled. “Of course, ma--Marilla.”

Matthew was waiting for them when they returned downstairs, wearing a shirt and tie with a sport coat that looked very distinguished on him. “Looking good, Anne,” he said, patting her shoulder.

“Thank you, Matthew,” she said. “Oh, I’m  _ so _ nervous about this…”

“You’ll be fine,” Matthew said. “You’ve got a gift for gab. More than I ever did, that’s for sure.”

“Don’t encourage her, Matthew,” Marilla said as she busied herself with straightening the placemats on the dining room table.

The remainder of the time passed in a tizzy of nerves (“Will you  _ please _ stop pacing all about the place, Anne!”) until finally there was a knock at the door.

“Ah, there we are,” Marilla said. “Right on the dot, too--no surprise there.” She bustled over to the door and swung it open. “Rachel, Thomas, hello! Come in, come in.”

“Thank you, Marilla.” The woman who followed Marilla inside was on the squat side, standing nearly a full head shorter than Marilla, her hair done up in a style slightly more complicated than Marilla’s bun; this woman in turn was followed closely behind by a man who was… well, unkind as it was to think, he was not particularly good looking, with a slightly bulbous nose and dark hair sticking out to either side of a perfectly bald crown. Anne hardly had room to judge anybody on looks, though, and besides, his manner seemed pleasant enough.

“Thomas, Rachel,” Marilla said, leading them over to where Anne stood. “This is Anne Shirley, our new… well, I suppose you’d call her our ward. Anne, these are our next-door neighbors, Rachel and Thomas Lynde.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Anne said politely. She experienced a brief moment of indecision regarding how to complement the greeting--should she nod? Bow?--before settling on simply sticking her hand out towards Mrs. Lynde for a handshake. Too late, she realized that the other woman was carrying some kind of glass dish in both hands, requiring her to fumble slightly and ultimately hand the dish off to Marilla before she could return the handshake.

“Well, she seems well-mannered, at least,” Mrs. Lynde said as she let go of Anne’s hand. “That’s rare enough with these foster kids--I suppose you got lucky there.”

Anne blinked, experiencing a moment of stupefaction. Was that true? She’d been housed with a number of other foster children, and she’d never noticed them being any more or less rude, on average, than anybody else she had met. Mrs. Lynde apparently didn’t notice her reaction, because she immediately moved on, following Marilla through the dining room and into the kitchen, chattering all the way. “Well, I must thank you for having us over like this Marilla. Of course, when a strange child moves into the home of one of my oldest friends, I simply  _ must _ know all about--”

Anne felt a soft hand on her shoulder. “Don’t mind Rachel,” Matthew’s voice said quietly beside her. “She talks a lot. Doesn’t always think much about what she’s saying.” He stepped forward, extending a hand to Mr. Lynde. “Thomas.”

“Matthew.” The two men clasped hands with an ease and familiarity that put Anne in mind of blood brothers who had seen each other through many a tough time. She smiled to see it.

Another knock sounded at the door. “Matthew, could you get that?” Marilla called from the kitchen.

“Oh, uh…” Matthew looked vaguely stricken at the prospect, but he shuffled past Mr. Lynde to the front door nonetheless. Anne followed him at a short distance, if only to serve as moral support.

“Hel-lo!” a pair of overly cheery voices said in unison as the door opened. These would be the Barrys, Anne presumed. The man of the pair, Mr. Barry, was visibly younger than any of the Cuthberts or Lyndes, yet still distinctly on the threshold of middle age; his wife, on the other hand, could still honestly be called young, or at least young-ish. The two of them stepped inside, Mr. Barry giving Matthew a hearty clap on the shoulder as he passed, and Anne caught sight of a much smaller person partially concealed behind Mrs. Barry’s legs, a young girl who was glaring at Anne with undisguised skepticism and suspicion. Well, one could always trust small children to let you know exactly what they thought of you.

And as for the person bringing up the rear--

“Um, hi,” Anne said, her breath catching slightly. “I’m… I’m Anne.”

“Hello, Anne,” the girl said. “I’m Diana.” Her smile was a bit shy, as though she were just as nervous about meeting Anne as Anne was meeting her--which made  _ no _ sense. Diana Barry was, there was no other word for it,  _ beautiful. _ She had lovely dark brown hair that cascaded down to her shoulders with just the right amount of curl to it, and a handsomely formed face with a tint of bronze to her skin that put Anne’s hopelessly pasty complexion to shame. She was dressed smartly too, with a white blouse that was just fitted enough to hint at the swoop of her waist, flaring out into a black skirt that fell to her knees, followed by dark tights and an elegant pair of slip-on shoes. Anne was suddenly particularly self-conscious of her own underdressed and mismatched outfit.

“Well, well, this is the new addition to our neighbor’s household, then?” Mr. Barry’s tone was friendly enough, but as his eyes flicked over Anne, she knew she was being appraised nonetheless. “Well. It’ll be nice for Diana to have another girl her age so close by.”

“I suppose so,” Mrs. Barry agreed, not needing to voice the distinctly implied addendum of  _ as long as she’s good enough for our daughter. _

Anne’s jaw tightened as the burning sensation under her skin whispered back into existence. Not now, not now…

“I have to admit, I was surprised,” Diana said, taking a step towards Anne and folding her hands demurely in front of her. “Waking up this morning, only for my mother to tell me that our neighbors had taken in a girl my age? It was so sudden!”

“Yeah, the whole thing was really sudden,” Anne agreed, grinning awkwardly. “I mean, yesterday afternoon I was in the social worker’s office in Charlottetown, and then the next thing I know, I was in the car with Matthew, on my way here.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you here with us,” Diana said, and the radiant sincerity with which she said it made Anne want to start crying.

“Oh, Bill, Eliza!” Marilla called from the door to the kitchen. “You’re just in time--Rachel and I have just finished up the meal.”

There was a general scramble as the assembled group worked out how to fit nine people around the Cuthberts’ dining room table. Anne wound up squeezed in between Matthew and Diana, which was just about an ideal arrangement as far as she was concerned.

The meal was amazing, one of the best Anne had eaten in a long time. She piled food on her plate, being sure to take a little bit of everything that was on offer, and all but groaned with ecstasy as it slid over her tongue and down her throat. Unfortunately, she was the constant focus of the table’s conversation, and as such was frequently obliged to hold off on her next bite so that she could answer the latest in the stream of questions that were being directed at her. No, she hadn’t been taken away from her parents, they had both died. No, she didn’t have any memory of them, she’d been in the foster system for as long as she could recall. No, she’d never been to juvie. (Just  _ what _ did Mrs. Lynde think foster kids got up to?!)

“Anne,” Diana said to her as the meal wound down and the dishes began to get cleared away. “Why don’t you show me your room?”

“Oh.” Anne flushed slightly. “It’s not much to look at, I’m afraid.”

Matthew nudged her a little. “Well, uh, why don’t you go show her anyway, Anne?”

It didn’t connect until the two of them were at the stop of the staircase that ‘show me your room’ had simply been an excuse for Diana and Anne to go off on their own where they could talk without the adults listening in. Anne felt a rush of gratitude towards Matthew for being faster on the uptake than she was. “Well, um, this is it,” she said as she led Diana into her room.

“Oh, this is nice,” Diana said, looking around. “It looks very cozy.”

“Well, nearly everything in here belongs to the Cuthberts,” Anne said, sitting at the edge of the bed. “But yeah, it’s nice. Probably the nicest room I’ve ever stayed in.”

Diana took a seat next to her. “Have you been in a lot of homes, then?”

“More than I can count,” Anne sighed. “I don’t think I’ve had any of them last even a year.”

A soft touch as Diana laid her hand atop hers. “Well, I hope you stay around here for a while,” Diana said, smiling softly. “It’d be awfully nice to have a friend living so close by.”

Anne couldn’t help gaping slightly as she looked into Diana’s face. “Does that… mean we’re friends, then?”

“Well, yes,” Diana said, looking back at her. “I mean, if you want to be, that is.”

“Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!” The two girls giggled together as Anne swept Diana up in an enthusiastic embrace. “Oh, this is so exciting,” sighed Anne as she let go. “I’ve never had anybody ask to be my friend before.”

A surprised, saddened look flickered briefly across Diana’s face. “Well, I’ll just have to be the best friend  _ ever _ to make up for that then,” she said. “Here, we should trade numbers so we can text each other. That is… you  _ do  _ have a phone, right?”

Anne looked over at the battered, outdated thing sitting on top of the dresser. “Technically.”

“Well, as long as it can send and receive messages, it’ll do. Here, give me your number and I’ll send you a text so you have mine.” Anne told her. Diana set about entering the number in her phone and composing an introductory text, and as she did so, Anne found her attention caught by the image adorning the back of Diana’s phone, ducking her head slightly to get a better look at it. It was a picture of a regal, powerfully built woman in a dark bodysuit with a tower emblazoned on the chest, her head covered by a steel helmet, and a long, heavy cape flaring out behind her.

“Is that Alexandria?” she asked.

Diana’s eyes went wide, and she quickly dropped her phone down into her lap. “Oh. I mean--that is--it’s an old phone case.”

“Okay…?” Anne said, not quite sure how that was relevant to the question she’d asked.

Diana sighed; her cheeks had taken on a slight pink tint. “Oh, I don’t suppose there’s any point trying to hide it,” she muttered. “You’re bound to find out sooner or later. You see, I’m a bit of a… well the term people use is ‘cape geek’. My other friends tease me something awful about it.”

“That doesn’t seem very nice,” Anne said, frowning.

Diana’s mouth twitched into a smile. “I like keeping up with all sorts of capes, especially local ones,” she continued. “I mean, not from Avonlea, obviously, it’s too small of a town for that--but the Protectorate team in Halifax and the like. I went through a phase a few years ago, though, where I was just  _ obsessed _ with Alexandria.” She lifted her phone again, smiling fondly at the image on the case. “I don’t know, it’s silly. It’s just… I saw her out there, doing all those amazing things, and… I guess it made me feel like  _ I _ could be amazing too.”

“That’s not silly at all,” Anne said, putting a hand on Diana’s knee. “I think it’s wonderful to have somebody so inspirational that you can look up to and use as a role model.”

Diana’s flush grew deeper, and she met Anne’s eyes shyly. “Anne?”

“Yes?”

“I think I might like you quite a lot.”

- - -

Anne’s heart was full to bursting as she lay in bed that evening, playing over her conversation with Diana in her head. Words couldn’t properly express how delightful it was to finally have a friend--or  _ better _ than a friend, even. Anne had an inkling that Diana could be a true bosom friend, someone she could bare her heart to and listen to her bare her heart in return. She’d read about such friendships many times in books, but it had always seemed like too much to hope that she could actually have a friend like that for real…

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Anne?” Marilla’s voice called.

“Yes, Marilla?” Anne replied, sitting up.

The door opened up, Marilla stepping in to stand in the doorway. “Where is my brooch?” she asked. “It isn’t in my jewelry box.”

Anne stopped to think. Had she returned it to the jewelry box after the others had left? She couldn’t remember doing so, and if it wasn’t there… “I’m sorry, I must not have remembered to put it back,” she said. “I imagine it’s probably on the chair where I left the shawl, then.”

Marilla shook her head. “No, it isn’t there, either. I checked.”

This  _ was _ a conundrum. “Well, I’m not sure where else it could be, then,” Anne said. “I wonder if--”

“Anne.” Marilla’s expression had turned hard, her voice sharp in a way that sent a jolt of terror through Anne’s body. “Where is it?”

“I just said, I don’t know--”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Anne’s throat began to ache; the burning under her skin had returned, slight, but steadily growing in intensity. “I’m  _ not _ lying,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I really don’t know where it is, Marilla!”

Marilla drew herself up, ramrod-straight. “I won’t have a thief in my house,” she said coldly. “Come clean, now, and we can sort this out.”

“How am I supposed to confess to something I haven’t done?!”

“I see. So that’s how it is.” Marilla sighed. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow, girl, and I’ll search this room top to bottom if I have to. In the meantime, I suggest you take tonight to reflect on the value of honesty.”

She whirled about to leave, and the door snapped shut behind her with an awful  _ crack. _

Anne sat in stunned silence for several moments before a strangled sob finally escaped her, and she tumbled forward off the bed, landing on her knees, doubling over with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The burning sensation had become so intense that she swore her skin was on the verge of cracking and flaking away in scorched pieces. She should’ve known better, should’ve known it was all too good to be true. How many times had she gotten her hopes up, only to have them cruelly crushed when the other shoe dropped? This place was no different. No--it  _ was  _ different, it was  _ worse, _ because Matthew and Diana had given her the smallest tantalizing taste of what it was to be truly cared for, and now that had all been snatched away in one horrible instant--

Her body spasmed with suppressed sobs, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks as she looked up through her window to the night beyond. It was all over, she would never belong here, never be wanted here. What was she supposed to do now?

- - -

Marilla’s mind was disquieted as she got herself ready for bed. She’d been clinging to a righteous sense of anger since confronting Anne, but in spite of her best efforts, it was beginning to ebb away, leaving a confusing mess of emotions in its wake. The oddest one was a deep and cutting sense of betrayal. God help her, she’d been starting to  _ like _ Anne, in spite of the girl’s many, many oddities. And it was plain as plain that Matthew had taken to her like a duck to water.

Matthew. Marilla let out a sigh. He was already asleep in his room, and she didn’t have the heart to wake him, not when she knew this would break his heart. This whole foster business had been  _ his _ idea, after all; she suspected that, though he’d never let on, he’d gotten awful lonely around the house since retiring…

A gleam of light interrupted her thoughts as she crossed her room. Frowning, she followed it over to the chair by her dresser. Something was wedged in between the arm of the chair and the side of the cushion, only barely visible. She reached in--and pulled out the missing brooch.

The enormity of it slammed into her like a blow from a sledgehammer. Anne--the poor girl had been telling her the truth, and she’d brushed it aside, backed her into a corner and refused to relent. Marilla’s feet moved almost of their own accord, carrying her out of her bedroom and into the hallway. She could see light coming out of the gap beneath the door to Michael’s room-- _ Anne’s _ room. Good. She’d clear up this misunderstanding straightaway; the girl didn’t need this hanging over her head all night.

“Anne?” she called, knocking at the door. No response. “Anne?” Still no response. It was likely she was just sulking--she had every right to, under the circumstances--but something planted a seed of worry in Marilla’s gut, and she reached down, turning the handle and pushing the door open.

A cold draft whispered over her skin--the window at the far end of the room stood wide open. Anne was nowhere to be seen.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're live, everybody! I've had this idea bouncing around in my head for a little while now, so I hope I can do it justice in practice. The first chapters are more or less an extended prologue, but it's important to set the scene before we really get underway, wouldn't you say?


	2. Chapter 2

The night air tore at Anne’s face as she ran. She had no destination, no plan--she wasn’t running  _ to _ something, just  _ away, _ obeying the irrational but overriding impulse to get out of that house and  _ go, _ anywhere that wasn’t there. And if the night was cold and she wasn’t in anything but a t-shirt and flannel pants… well, maybe that would finally quench that goddamn  _ burning _ underneath her skin, pricking at her, driving her on and on, driving her mad.

In the end, though, it was another burning sensation that obliged her to stop, her lungs protesting with increasing fervency at the sheer amount of cold air that she was forcing them to inhale and then expel. Anne stumbled to a halt, dropping down to her hands and knees, and finally gave in to the feelings she’d alternately been trying to bottle and burn off, great wracking sobs mixing in with desperate gasps for breath. When at last her breathing had settled, she simply turned and laid down on her side, curled up on somebody’s front lawn, alone in the darkness. Avonlea was the kind of town that went to bed early, it seemed; the windows of the house before her were dark, as were the windows of every other house on the street that she could see. That suited her just fine; she wasn’t in the mood for company, and she  _ definitely _ wasn’t in the mood for anybody’s fumbling, useless attempts to help her.

She lay there for an extended period of time, thoughts turning in restless circles in spite of her attempts not to think. A small, aggressively sensible corner of her mind pointed out that she had little choice but to return to Green Gables, in the end; the nearest town was probably at least a few hours away by foot, let alone anyplace useful like Charlottetown, and she stood a good chance of freezing to death if she tried going that route. Irritably, she pushed the voice aside--it sounded too much like Marilla for her taste just now, and besides, she was much too busy feeling sorry for herself to bother with being sensible.

With a sigh, she rolled over onto her back. The moon and stars overhead seemed especially vibrant, possibly due to having less light pollution out here.  _ At least I’ll always have them, _ Anne thought to herself.

At last, the heat of her exertions bled off enough that she began to feel goosebumps prickle along her arms--although the burning beneath her skin was still there, god  _ damn _ it--and she hoisted herself to her feet, admitting defeat. Despite a not-insignificant urge to find a place to curl up until morning in order to spite Marilla--see if she still felt so high and mighty finding Anne’s bed empty in the morning--practical considerations won out, and Anne wearily turned back the way she had come.

She was about to set off when the distant sound of raised voices stopped her.

Anne turned back, trying to locate where they were coming from. A row of buildings that definitely weren’t houses was just a few blocks away; she’d apparently made it out nearly all the way to Main Street.

The voices came again from that direction, and this time Anne was just barely able to pick out what one was saying.

_ “Leave me alone!” _

A woman’s voice.

Heart pounding, Anne took off at a light jog, finding her way through an alleyway and stopping at its mouth to peep out onto Main Street itself.

Like the other streets in town, Main Street was nearly deserted; hardly a surprise, given that it had to be past midnight at this point. Therefore, it wasn’t hard for Anne to locate the source of the voices--her eyes landed on a pair of figures about half a block down from her, engaged in some sort of altercation.

One, as she’d heard, was a woman; she was attempting to extract herself from the situation to go elsewhere, presumably to walk home. She was being hampered in this by a man, unsteady on his feet and slurring his words, clearly drunk yet coordinated enough to catch her by the arm and hold on despite her attempts to pull away. Even Avonlea had its late-night bargoers, apparently.

“I said leave me  _ alone, _ Harry,” the woman snapped. Despite her anger, Anne could detect an edge of fear in her voice as well. “Go home. You’re drunk.”

“Aww, c’mon,” the man--Harry--slurred, tugging at her arm. “Yer not gonna jus’ leave me like this, are ya?”

Anne swallowed. It was all too clear what was going on. She couldn’t say for sure what would end up happening--the woman might very well manage to pull away and escape, or the man might get tired of the struggle and give up. On the other hand… it had the potential to end in something far worse.

Should she intervene?

Would she be able to live with herself if she  _ didn’t? _

The burning beneath her skin had flared up again, as if in response to her thoughts, insistent and somehow  _ expectant. _

This time, she gave in.

- - -

_ Anne lay curled up on her bed, face buried in her pillow so the sounds of her crying wouldn’t be audible in the house beyond. Mrs. Hammond was already in a foul enough mood; Anne had accidentally broken a dish while washing it, and received a thorough, truly vicious tongue-lashing in response. It would be unwise to do anything that might provoke the woman further. _

_ “Princess Cordelia was locked away, high in a tower,” Anne whispered to herself between sobs. “All alone, she wept, lamenting her cruel fate. Yet she knew… she knew that one day a hero would arrive and rescue her from the tower, and all would be well…” _

_ It was a story she’d made up as a little girl, to comfort herself when everything seemed dark and hopeless. But she’d never clung to it as she clung to it now, putting every last iota of imagination into it, visualizing the cold stone of her tower cell, the fine dress and crown of flowers that adorned her as Princess Cordelia. She was so, so tired, sick and tired of being a stupid, useless girl that nobody wanted. Maybe if she pretended hard enough,  _ **_really_ ** _ put her heart and soul into imagining it… she could be something else. _

_ It was in that broken moment that her powers found her. _

- - -

Anne stepped out of the alleyway.

The woman was the first to notice her, trailing off mid-argument, eyes going wide as they landed on Anne. The man took a few seconds longer, slowly following her gaze over before he, too, saw Anne and his mouth dropped shamelessly open in response.

Anne had looked at her transformed state in mirrors during quiet moments when she was sure nobody else was around, and she knew it was a sight to behold. Her body had become a humanoid figure composed entirely out of what appeared to be blue flames, casting a soft light around her; her ‘hair’, loosed from its usual twin pigtails, floated slightly in the air, creating a wild halo about the back of her head. She approached the two of them at a steady walk, trying to project confidence that she didn’t feel--she was sure that her heart would’ve been pounding, except that this transformed state of hers didn’t seem to  _ have _ a heart.

“What the  _ hell…?” _ the man breathed. His hand dropped from the woman’s arm; unfortunately, she was equally transfixed staring at Anne, and didn’t have the presence of mind to take the opportunity to escape.

_ “She told you to leave her alone.” _ Anne’s voice came out altered, unearthly. She leaned into the feeling--she wasn’t a scared little girl, she was fae, she was eldritch, she was powerful.

The man nodded slowly, seeming to recover his wits. “Think you’re some kinda hero?” he said. “I get it. You’re one a’ them  _ freaks, _ aren’t you? Stay back, freak.”

Anne took another step forward.

The man’s body went tense; his hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out a small object. The woman took a couple of unsteady steps back away from him as the folding knife’s blade popped out, gleaming in the streetlight. “I said  _ stay back,” _ the man snarled.

Anne stopped, hesitating. Could the knife actually hurt her while she was like this? For all that she’d spent time experimenting with her powers, she’d never thought to try stabbing herself. Either way, there was no reason to risk it--not when she had other ways of dealing with the situation.

_ I’m not here, I’m over there. _

And she was; her form flickered out like a guttering candle, reappearing ten feet behind the man’s back. As he looked frantically back and forth, trying to figure out where she’d gone, Anne lifted one arm, and quite suddenly it was no longer an arm but a  _ tendril, _ flicking out to wrap around the forearm of the hand that held the knife.

The man yelped, but Anne knew that it was in surprise rather than pain. In spite of her form’s appearance, it wasn’t composed of fire but of something else--Anne wasn’t quite sure what, only that it was cool to the touch and reasonably solid, if highly malleable. She wrenched the man’s arm back and forth, trying to get him to drop the knife. Wasn’t there a trick to that? She suddenly wished that she’d thought to look it up.  _ “Drop the knife!” _ she shouted, hoping that maybe she could startle him into complying.

He didn’t, electing instead to hock a glob of spit at her as he tried to wrestle his arm out of her grip. Sighing, Anne gave up on trying to disarm him, releasing his arm with one last sharp tug to pull him off-balance; she flicked out her other arm into another tendril, wrapping this one around his ankle and forcefully yanking it out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

“Goddamn--!” he spat, regaining his feet and trying to lunge at her as he rose. Anne simply vanished again, reappearing behind him and catching both his feet in her tendrils, heaving him around in a wide arc that sent him skimming over the pavement. The knife finally clattered out of his hand, and he pushed himself up off the ground and made a break for it, sounds of utter terror and panic drifting back to Anne as he disappeared down the street. She briefly considered whether she should try and apprehend him, but decided against it; she didn’t even know where the police station was in Avonlea, let alone whether there’d be anybody staffing it at this time of night.

_ “Are you okay?”  _ she asked, turning to the woman.

The woman started slightly, as though she’d expected Anne to forget about her. “Um, yeah,” she said. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

Anne smiled at her, trying to put her at ease, though she wasn’t sure if the desired effect came through in her altered form.  _ “Do you need me to escort you home?” _

“No, no. I’ll be fine from here. Harry’s just kind of… well, never mind.” The woman shook her head. “I’m just… I didn’t know we had any capes here in Avonlea. Wow. Who  _ are _ you?”

_ “I’m--”  _ Anne stopped herself before she could give her secret identity away by sheer reflex. Unfortunately, that left her with the question of what she should say instead; in a vague panic, she began to blurt out the first thing that popped into her head.  _ “Princess--” _ She had to stop herself again; she wasn’t sure whether she’d ever told anyone else about ‘Princess Cordelia’, but if she had, that’d be a dead giveaway as sure as her real name.

The woman, who was not privy to the chaotic stampede that was Anne’s thought process, gave her an odd look and nodded slowly. “Princess…?” she said. “I mean… okay, yeah, I guess I can see it.”

Anne was suddenly grateful that she was transformed, because otherwise she was sure she’d be turning bright red right about now. Though now that she thought about it, her form was beginning to feel strangely heavy in a way that was all too familiar… she had to get out of here, and fast.  _ “Well, if you’re going to be okay… I should move on. Lots of cape stuff to do, you know.” _

The woman raised an eyebrow. “In Avonlea…?” she began to ask.

_ “Bye!” _ Anne yelped, blinking out of existence. She rematerialized in a nearby alleyway, out of the woman’s line of sight; a moment later she was back to her normal human self, leaning over her knees and panting slightly as her hair settled over her shoulders. She seemed to be getting better at holding on to her transformed state--she’d barely even had to give it a thought during the fight--but having the limit was still damned inconvenient.

“All right,” she sighed to herself, hoisting herself back up to full height. “It is  _ definitely _ time for me to head back.”

- - -

One of the Cuthberts, at some point in the past, had seen fit to install a trellis on the side of Green Gables that conveniently reached all the way up to Anne’s second-floor window; it had been her escape route earlier this evening, and now it was her way back up and in, neatly avoiding the numerous awkward questions that would’ve awaited her had she rung the bell at the front door. Not that it was smooth going, exactly, but as she flinched at each bump and jolt, Anne reminded herself that Marilla and Matthew were almost certainly both asleep. She could only hope that they weren’t light sleepers.

At last she made it through the window and back into her room, which was much the same as she had left it save for a marked drop in temperature to match the outdoors. She closed the window behind her, then turned toward her bed--and stopped as melancholy settled over her. The incident tonight had been a welcome distraction from what she was facing, it had even been cathartic in an odd sort of way, but it hadn’t actually changed anything. She doubted she’d be able to get to sleep with everything that was weighing on her mind. Maybe she should pull out her suitcase and start packing, instead?

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the door quietly easing open, and so she nearly jumped out of her skin when Marilla softly said, “Anne?”

“Wha--Marilla!” Anne’s heart leapt up into her throat, beating about a mile a minute. “I’m--that is, I was--I’m just--”

Marilla held up a hand to stop the babble, and with increasing confusion Anne realized that the woman’s expression wasn’t angry, but rather soft and sad. Marilla’s other hand moved, and Anne looked down just in time to see it unfurl--revealing the brooch.

“When I came in earlier and found you gone,” Marilla said, speaking softer than Anne had heard her yet, “I was so afraid that I had driven you away… I’m sorry, Anne.”

Anne found herself, uncharacteristically, completely lost for words. She was no stranger to adults doing things that hurt her, but this was the first time she could remember that one of them had  _ apologized _ for it.

Marilla stepped forward, reaching out to run a gentle hand along Anne’s shoulder. “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me for this, Anne,” she continued, “I promise… I will learn to trust you, to listen to what you have to say before casting judgement. I know you can’t have had a very easy life up till now, and… if it’s agreeable to you, I think that this could be your home.”

Overcome, Anne could only lean forward and wrap her arms around Marilla, burying her face in the older woman’s chest.

- - -

The first thing that Anne was conscious of as she woke up the next morning was the smell of something delicious cooking downstairs. The second thing was the sudden recollection of everything that had happened the previous night, sending her sitting bolt upright. Had that that all really happened? Had she really--? Had Marilla really--? Had it all been a dream? Was she dreaming now?

Her fingers found the flesh of her forearm and pinched, drawing a pained yelp from her. Definitely not dreaming now. But if it was all real, then…  _ I think that this could be your home, _ Marilla had said.

Her heart was singing as she bounded down the stairs.

“Well, now,” Marilla said, poking her head out of the kitchen. “I hope you slept well after all of that excitement last night.”

Well, that dispelled any lingering doubts about whether it had been real. “Like a rock,” Anne replied, smiling shyly. “Thank you, Marilla.”

Marilla nodded, letting out a soft, satisfied sound, a slight smile creasing her face. “Well, I’ve got Sunday breakfast cooking,” she said. “It’ll be a few minutes, but I’ve got a pot of tea ready, if you’d like.”

Anne nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes please!”

“Milk or sugar?”

“Generous helpings of both.”

Marilla huffed and set about pouring a cup of tea. Anne gratefully accepted it from her and took a long swig as she crossed through the dining room and into the living room, where Matthew was sitting watching the news. “Good morning, Matthew!”

“Morning, Anne,” he replied, eyes crinkling as he looked up at her. “I, uh, hear that there was a bit of a ruckus last night after I went to bed.”

Anne’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I’m sorry I ran away,” she said. “I think I worried Marilla quite a bit.”

“Well,” Matthew said, “I’m just glad that you came back.” They exchanged a smile, and Matthew went back to watching the news while Anne raised her teacup to her lips for another swig.

_ “...in other news, Avonlea had its first reported instance of parahuman activity last night, when a cape calling herself ‘Princess’ intervened to assist a woman who was being harrassed…” _

Anne spluttered into her tea. The news was talking about  _ her. _

_ “...eyewitness’s report states that ‘Princess’ had a body made entirely of a luminous blue substance, and displayed the ability to teleport as well as being able to alter the shape of her body at will. No official statement yet from authorities…” _

“Well,  _ that’s _ just what we need around these parts,” Marilla said. She’d poked her head out from the kitchen again to listen to the news report.

“You don’t like capes, Marilla?” Anne asked, gut clenching slightly.

“Huh,” Marilla snorted. “Nothing but trouble, that lot.”

“I’m just glad she’s a hero,” Matthew commented. “We don’t need another villain running around.”

“You think--” Anne caught herself just in time to avoid blurting out  _ ‘I’m’, _ “--she’s a hero?”

“Well… yes,” Matthew said, looking vaguely mystified as to why she’d be questioning that. “She helped out that woman, didn’t she? That’s the sort of thing a hero does.”

“Hero, fiddlesticks,” Marilla said as she set something down on the dining room table. “Anne, you’re too young to remember the world before these ‘parahumans’ started showing up, but I’m not, and let me tell you, things were a lot better back then. The first few weren’t bad, I’ll allow, but then there were more and more of them, and some of  _ those _ turned out to be perfectly awful, and, well, these days it seems like everybody’s just holding their breath, waiting to see how we’re all going to die.”

“Oh,” Anne said, deflating slightly. She’d been wondering whether she should come clean with the Cuthberts about her powers, but if Marilla felt that strongly about capes… she’d only just managed to somehow fumble her way into the woman’s good graces. She didn’t want to spoil it now, and she  _ definitely _ didn’t want Marilla deciding that she was more trouble than she was worth.

“Breakfast’s ready,” Marilla announced, definitively ending the conversation. “Matthew, turn that off.”

Anne spirits lifted again as she skipped over to the table, followed much more slowly by Matthew--a good breakfast was a salve that could cure many ills. She gaped slightly as a plate stacked high with pancakes was set down before her. “There you go, eat up,” Marilla said. “I don’t normally make them with chocolate chips, but you seem like the sort with a sweet tooth, so I thought it might make a nice treat. There’s butter and syrup too, if you want them.”

Anne looked up at her with happy astonishment, and noted the way Marilla tucked her chin slightly, her gaze wavering a bit as it tried to meet Anne’s. So that’s how it was, was it? Truth be told, she’d already pretty much forgiven Marilla for what had happened last night… but she wasn’t above having a generous helping of guilt pancakes.

“Don’t eat them too fast, now,” Marilla said as Anne tucked in. “And go wash up and get dressed once you’re done. We’ve got a lot of things to take care of today.”

“Theegh?” Anne inquired through a mouthful of pancake.

Marilla nodded, caught somewhere between annoyance and amusement. “I was figuring on taking you out shopping today,” she said. “You’ll need some more clothes than you have now, and some nicer ones, too. And then there’s all your supplies, of course.”

Anne swallowed down a bite that was bigger than was strictly advisable. “Supplies?”

“For school, of course,” Marilla said, lifting an eyebrow. “It’ll be a bit tight with the paperwork, but we should be able to get you in early next week.”

- - -

Quiet settled over the ground floor of the Cuthbert household; Anne, bounding up the stairs like a bouncing ball of energy after finishing her breakfast, seemed to have taken all the noise with her. The only sounds in evidence were the occasional sniff from Matthew and rustle as he turned a page in his newspaper, and the odd clink of ceramic as Marilla cleared away the dishes from the table.

At length, Matthew closed and folded his newspaper, setting it down on the table as he gazed into the middle distance, as though he’d just been struck by a thought--or finished thinking over one. “It’s not normal,” he said.

“Beg pardon?” Marilla asked, utterly unruffled, as though she were used to Matthew speaking his mind without preamble--which she was.

“It’s not normal,” Matthew repeated. “Anne, running away like that just because she’d gotten into a spot of trouble. That’s not normal behavior for a child.”

“Well, it depends on the child, I should think,” Marilla said.

“Depends on what the child’s been taught,” Matthew said. “I wonder… where was Anne taught that getting in trouble means she’s no longer welcome in the home?”

“Hmm,” Marilla replied, her eyes thoughtful.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And at last, we get a glimpse of Anne's powers.
> 
> Next up, the first day of school, and with it, some familiar faces... and familiar scenarios.


	3. Chapter 3

“Anne!” Diana called from across the schoolyard.

“Diana!” Anne called back, waving.

The two of them ran to embrace each other, laughing in delight all the way. “What a wonderful surprise!” Diana exclaimed. “I wasn’t expecting you to show up at school so soon after moving in.”

“It was a tight squeeze,” agreed Anne. “We had to come in early this morning to get it all sorted out, but we managed it. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen Marilla when she decides that she’s going to get something done…”

“Oh, I can imagine,” Diana said, shuddering slightly even as she laughed again. “Have you gotten your class schedule yet? Do you know who you have for homeroom?”

“Let’s see… um…” Anne retrieved her schedule, which was already getting creased and rumpled from being stuffed in the front pocket of her jeans. “...Mr. Phillips?”

Diana bobbed slightly on her feet. “Anne, that’s  _ fantastic!” _

“Is he really good?”

“Well, no, he’s kind of the worst. But it means that you’re in homeroom with  _ me!” _ Diana grasped Anne’s wrist and tugged. “Come on, come on! I can introduce you to everybody!”

“Wait, wait, Diana,” Anne laughed, allowing herself to be pulled along. “I need to stop by my locker first!” Her spirits were soaring to uncommon heights--normally, the first day at a new school was a major trial for her, approached with no small amount of trepidation. But then, she’d never had an actual ray of living sunshine appoint herself as her guide before.

One short detour to Anne’s locker later, Diana led Anne into a classroom--presumably the correct one, as Anne was deferring to her friend’s superior knowledge of the school. “Over here,” Diana said, wading through the sea of desk-chairs that took up most of the classroom’s floorspace. “This is where we sit. The homeroom gals. The girl gang.” Sure enough, there was a small cluster of girls in the direction she was headed. They all looked up as Diana approached, causing Anne’s stride to falter briefly, but she rallied and followed her friend over.

“Everybody, this is Anne,” Diana announced matter-of-factly. “She’s the Cuthbert’s new foster kid, just moved in this weekend. Anne, this is Josie--” she pointed at a blonde girl with elegant features set in a thoroughly unimpressed expression “--Tillie--” a heavyset girl with dark hair “--Ruby--” a small blonde girl with a round, cute face “--and Jane,” a brown-haired girl with slightly tanned skin.

“Um. Hi.” Anne lifted a hand and offered a weak wave. “I’m Anne. But, uh, Diana just told you that. Hi.” She closed her mouth before any more words could wander out.

“Foster kid, huh,” Josie said--and there it was again, that  _ damn  _ once-over look. “Well, it sure was nice of the Cuthberts to take you in.”

“Come on, Anne, let’s sit down,” Diana said, tone hardening almost imperceptibly. “You can sit next to me.”

“You’re not from Avonlea,” one of the other girls--Jane?--said as Anne and Diana settled in. It wasn’t a question.

“Um, no,” Anne said, bending down to retrieve a notebook from her bag. “I’m from… well, kind of all over the place. Charlottetown, most recently--that’s where I came from to here.”

“Have you ever been to juvie?” Ruby asked, a little breathlessly.

“What?! No!” How many people were going to ask that? Anne was tempted to say something else, register her displeasure a little more forcefully, but Ruby’s eyes were wide and shining--she seemed to have asked the question in perfect innocence. Anne sighed and let the matter drop. The bell rang a few seconds later anyway, cutting off any further chance at conversation.

“All right, quiet! Quiet, all of you!” A man’s voice came from the front of the classroom. Anne turned away from the other girls towards it, and then did a double-take as her eyes landed on its source. She was sure that Mr. Phillips must’ve had other notable features, but all that she was capable of processing at the moment was that he had the most truly  _ ridiculous _ moustache she’d ever seen on anybody. 

“Before anything else, it falls on me to announce that we have a new student beginning today.” The tips were curled up slightly--did he seriously  _ wax _ the thing? “A- _ hem!” _ Anne realized with a start that Mr. Phillips was staring at her with a significant look.

“Oh!” She shot to her feet. “Um, sorry. I’m Anne Shirley.”

Mr. Phillips nodded and rolled one hand to indicate that she should continue.

Continue with  _ what? _ “And… um… I’m Anne,” she finished, feeling her face heat up. “Shirley.”

“Yes, thank you for clarifying that, Anne Shirley,” Mr. Phillips remarked dryly as titters broke out around the classroom. “Sit down.”

Anne complied, shooting Diana a glance as she did so.  _ What was that?! _

Diana returned the look apologetically.  _ I told you he was the worst. _

Mr. Phillips took roll, and then settled himself in at his desk, leaving the students to their own devices. Most of them pulled out notebooks and set to working on homework of one kind or another. Anne had none to work on, naturally, so she wound up scooting slightly in Diana’s direction and looking at her work over her shoulder.

“Just making sure my report for Social Studies is in good shape,” Diana said by way of explanation. “I have it third period. Oh,  _ please _ say you do too--we just started a unit on parahuman affairs, and it’s  _ so _ fascinating.”

Parahuman affairs? Well, that certainly seemed… particularly relevant to Anne. She consulted her schedule. “Yes, I do!” she squealed, loudly enough to make Mr. Phillips glance up sharply. The two girls ducked their heads to avoid his gaze, holding in their giggles.

“What about next period?” Diana whispered. “I have French.”

Anne’s heart sank as she looked at the relevant portion of her schedule. “Spanish,” she said. “Confound it all. I should’ve asked to be put in French. It’s so much more elegant of a language, don’t you think?”

“Well, don’t write Spanish off completely,” Diana said with infuriating reasonableness. “They’re both romance languages, after all. If you give it a chance, I think you’ll find that it can be plenty… sultry.”

_ “Diana!” _ Anne exclaimed under her breath, and the two of them broke out into another fit of giggles.

At length the bell rang again, signaling that homeroom had drawn to a close. “Well, I’ll see you in third period, Anne,” Diana said as they gathered their things. “If nothing else, you’ll have that thought to get you through Spanish class.”

“I’ll be thinking of you the entire time, my dear,” Anne said with airy seriousness. Then, dropping to a much more awkward and grounded tone, she added. “Um… so speaking of Spanish class…”

“Next wing over, take the hallway on the left, second classroom down,” Diana said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“You’re a perfect angel, Diana.” Anne gave her friend a quick hug, then headed out the door.

- - -

Spanish class turned out to be surprisingly okay. Avonlea High was using a completely different module than Anne’s previous school, which meant that she was hopelessly behind in a few areas, but she was appreciably ahead in enough others that it made for a solid mixed bag, and the teacher was understanding about it at any rate.

“Okay, social studies,” Anne said to herself as she stepped out of the classroom. Her excitement turned to uneasiness and then vague panic as she consulted her schedule again. She didn’t have Diana’s guidance to rely on here; somehow she was going to have to find her next classroom on her own, and she  _ really _ didn’t want to be late to this one--

“Excuse me, do you need help?”

Anne looked up--and then  _ up, _ since the boy who had spoken was easily half a head taller than her. “Um,” she replied eloquently. “I’m… class.”

“Well, yes, one assumes that that’s why you’re at school.” The boy grinned to show that the jab was meant in good humor; Anne couldn’t help noticing that he had a very attractively formed chin, and his dark hair had just the slightest pleasing curl to it. “Where are you trying to get to?”

Mutely, Anne held her schedule up for him to read, indicating third period with her finger.

“Oh hey, Social Studies with Mr. Harrington? That’s my next class too! Yeah, it’s just over there on the other side of the wing. I’d offer to walk you, but I need to run right quick and…” He trailed off, then started speaking again. “Gilbert Blythe. Um. I mean, Gil. Gilbert’s a bit… yeah.”

Anne found her voice again. “Anne,” she replied. “That’s, um, spelled with an ‘e’. I’m new here.”

“Yeah, I know.” Gil grinned at her again. “I mean, I figured. I would’ve remembered that hair. Maybe I should call you ‘Carrots’, huh?”

Whatever pleasant feelings Anne was having about meeting Gil instantly curdled into irritation. “Thank you for your help,” she said coldly, striding past him without waiting for a reply.

“Whoa, wait--!” he called from behind her. She didn’t stop, or even turn back to look at him. He’d been so pleasant and polite… until he hadn’t. Had that crack about her hair  _ really _ been necessary?

She was so focused on being put out over the whole thing that she very nearly plowed directly into Ruby.

“Whoa, sorr--” Anne began, then stopped short at the sight of the glare Ruby was leveling at her. The smaller girl seemed positively irate, which made for a slightly humorous contrast with… well, just about everything else about her.

“What were you doing talking with Gilbert Blythe?” Ruby asked.

Anne gaped. “Wha--he was just telling me how to get to my next class!”

“Oh,  _ really.” _ Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “You weren’t playing coy? Batting your eyelashes at him?  _ Flirting _ with him?!”

“What?! No!”

“You’d  _ better _ not have been,” Ruby growled. “Because he’s  _ mine. _ So you just stay away from him, you--you--hussy!”

_ Hussy?! _ “You can have him!” Anne protested, throwing up both hands in front of her. “He’s rude, and obnoxious, and I want nothing whatsoever to do with him!”

“Oh.” Ruby looked as if she didn’t know whether to be pleased that Anne wasn’t interested in Gil, or annoyed that she’d insulted him. “Well… good. Just as long as it stays that way.” It was a natural point for them to end their conversation and walk away from each other, which made it intensely awkward when they both began to head in the same direction instead. Ruby was apparently also in Anne’s third period Social Studies class--her and half the school, it seemed.

Thankfully, Diana had already made it to the classroom ahead of them; Anne gratefully plopped down in a seat next to her. “What’re you so interested in, Diana?” Ruby asked, taking the seat on her other side.

Diana looked up from where she was poring over her phone, eyes shining. “Keeping up with the news, of course! Did you hear that Avonlea has a local cape now?”

Anne blinked. “I… heard something about that somewhere, yes.”

Diana’s eyes flew back to her phone. “I was hoping there might be some new information available,” she said. “But it doesn’t look like she’s made any more appearances since Saturday night. The Protectorate hasn’t issued any statements, either…”

“Well, they’re hardly going to comment on  _ every _ rogue cape that pops up,” Ruby said. “Really, Diana, you’re  _ obsessed.” _

“I’m excited, that’s all!” Diana grinned. “Up til now, the closest capes were all the way in Charlottetown, and they only have a couple at that. This is a proper local cape for Avonlea--a hometown hero we can root for!”

Anne glowed slightly, basking in Diana’s (admittedly unknowing) adulation of her, only for her mood to be ruined when an all-too-familiar voice said, “Who are we rooting for?”

“Oh, Gil,” Diana said, looking up at him as he took the seat on the other side of Anne. “Anne, this is Gilbert--”

“We’ve met,” Anne said curtly. Ruby was glowering at her from behind Diana; Anne desperately tried to communicate with her eyes that this was  _ not _ a voluntary arrangement on her part.

“Oh…” Diana said simply, eyes shifting between Anne and Gil with a confused expression. “I was just talking about the cape that popped up in town over the weekend.”

“Oh, yeah,” Gil said, settling into his seat. He flashed Anne a smile that she pointedly did not return. “That was… Princess, didn’t she call herself?”

“That’s… what they said on the news,” Anne muttered.  _ Why _ hadn’t she had the presence of mind to think up a better name?!

“Hah, right,” Gil said. “I don’t know. Kind of worrisome, if you ask me.”

“Worrisome?” Anne and Diana had spoken the inquiry in near-unison.

“Yeah. I mean, a cape with any kind of real power, in a small town like this?” Gil shrugged. “The police sure aren’t equipped to deal with them, and the nearest Protectorate team’s a pretty significant distance away, if you can even get word out to them… you could be looking at a lot of damage before anybody could stop them.”

“So you think she’s going to go around hurting people?” Anne’s earlier irritation with Gil was on the verge of becoming outright fury.

“I’m just saying, it’s a risky situation,” Gil said. “Like that one town down in the States, with what’s-his-name… uh, Nilbog.”

Diana pulled a face. “Thank you for  _ that _ pleasant thought.”

“I live to serve.” Gil gave Anne a saucy wink, and she hurriedly turned in her seat to face forward, studiously ignoring him.

Fortunately for her ongoing efforts on that front, the bell chose that moment to ring. “All right, everyone!” the teacher called. “We’ll be using the tablets today, so pass them on down the line…”

“What are these?” Anne whispered to Diana as he began to distribute stacks of rectangular objects to the students at the end of each row.

“Tablets,” Diana whispered back. “You know, like tablet computers. They have us use them in class to practice looking up sources, for research and stuff.”

“Huh.” There certainly hadn’t been anything like that at any of the schools Anne had attended recently. “That’s kind of cool.”

“It’s some sort of experimental modern education program.” Diana accepted the stack of tablets from Ruby, took one for herself, and then passed it on to Anne. “My mother says it just reinforces screen addiction, though.”

Anne took a tablet of her own, passing the stack on to Gil. “Thanks,” he whispered, smiling at her. She didn’t meet his eyes or return the smile.

“All right, then,” the teacher said once the tablets had finished getting distributed. His eyes briefly landed on Anne. “For the benefit of our new student--last time we discussed Scion, commonly considered the harbinger of the parahuman phenomenon, and his first appearance in 1982, as well as his activities since then. Today, I wanted to move on to Vikare, who most of you know as the first publicly active parahuman--the first ‘cape’, to use the common parlance. A point of interest to keep in mind is that he was present, in his civilian identity, at the first sighting of Scion; whether this is a connection or a coincidence remains unknown…”

Anne leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand as she listened to the lecture with no small amount of interest. It was her first time being formally taught about parahumans, and while she obviously knew who Scion was, and was pretty sure that she’d heard Vikare’s name before too, the specifics were entirely new to her. This was the history of the tradition she’d stepped into. A brief glance sideways showed her that Diana was listening with an expression of rapt attention, even though Anne was sure that somebody as well-informed as her must have known all this already…

“So, uh…” Gil’s voice came from her other side, low and quiet. “You a cape fan, then?”

Anne gritted her teeth. Really? Trying to distract her in the middle of class? His repeated attempts to talk to her had been annoying enough as it was; this was upgrading it to  _ antagonizing. _

“That why you and Diana get along so well?” Gil persisted, either not noticing or willfully ignoring her extremely obvious irritation with him. “I mean, she’s really into this stuff, so if you are too, that’s kind of a perfect match right there…”

Anne’s jaw tightened further. Worse, she could feel the first traces of the burning sensation beneath her skin start up. God  _ damn _ it.  _ Ignore him, just ignore him… _

“Hey. You listening? Hey. Hey, Carrots.” Anne gasped as her head jerked to one side, accompanied by a sharp pain in her scalp. Gil had taken hold of the pigtail nearest him and tugged.

That did it.

“Leave me  _ alone!” _ she exploded, forcefully enough that her voice reverberated off of the classroom walls. Her hand flew to the first object it could find on her desk and swung; it was only when she heard the sharp  _ crack _ of it impacting against the side of Gil’s head that she realized it was her tablet.

A wave of horror swept through her as the primal rush of righteous anger ebbed, and the more pragmatic parts of her brain caught up with what she had just done. Her eyes flicked over to the tablet--sure enough, the noise had been the screen breaking, a spiderweb of cracks running in all directions from the impact point near its center. Gil’s head had snapped to the side, and for several breathless moments, it remained there, but before long he turned back to look at her, wincing slightly as he gingerly touched the side of his head. “Good arm,” was all he said.

“What on  _ earth _ is going on here?!”

Anne started as the teacher’s voice rang out, and she was suddenly keenly aware of the fact that every set of eyes in the classroom was fixed on her and Gil. She opened her mouth to explain, only to find the words sticking in her throat, refusing to come out.

“Anne Shirley,” the teacher said, approaching her desk. “This is  _ completely _ unacceptable--”

“It was my fault, sir,” Gil interrupted. “I was teasing her.”

Anne goggled at him in shock, and she was hardly the only one--a wave of murmuring swept through the classroom. Even the teacher seemed taken aback, his eyes jumping rapidly between Anne and Gil as though he’d be able to puzzle out what was going on by looking hard enough. “I have to get on with class,” he said at last. “Both of you, principal’s office.  _ Now.” _

- - -

The two of them sat on a couch in the main office, Anne pressed as far to one side as she was physically able to go, Gil maintaining a respectful distance on the opposite end. Anne had curled in on herself, arms wrapped tightly around her torso, chin trembling with the effort of holding in the tears that were pricking at her eyes. She’d had some rough first days at other schools, but this one had just shot to the top of the list--she’d never managed to get in so much trouble so quickly before. Way to go, Anne.

Gil cleared his throat slightly. “Hey--”

“Don’t,” she snapped, almost growling the word.

“I just--”

_ “Don’t.” _

He subsided, probably fearing another blow to the head if he pressed too hard. Anne’s grip on herself tightened. The burning beneath her skin had been building steadily since it had first begun in class earlier, and now it had reached a screaming crescendo, nearly as bad as when she’d been convinced Marilla was going to throw her out of the house.  _ That _ would just be the perfect shit cherry on top of the crap sundae that was her day, if she lost control and transformed in front of everybody in the office.

_ Please, _ she thought, a single tear spilling from the corner of her eye in spite of her best efforts.  _ Please, please, literally any other time but now. Can’t you just leave me alone?! _

An odd feeling permeated her--almost a sort of contemplation or hesitancy--and then, quite suddenly, the burning died down to almost nothing.

Her breath hitched, surprise momentarily overriding all of her other emotions. All this time, all she’d had to do was… ask?

Before she could contemplate the implications of this, she heard the sharp  _ click _ of the door to the principal’s office swinging open. “Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe?”

The distress of impending doom trickled back in as Anne followed Gil inside. The principal was a short, stoutly built man with close-cropped gray hair and a full beard that was probably supposed to look dignified. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to two chairs in front of his desk as he sat down in the chair behind it. “Now. I’m given to understand that you, Ms. Shirley, hit Mr. Blythe over the head with a tablet computer?”

Anne drew in a breath to begin explaining, but once again, words failed her. How could she explain why she’d done what she’d done? He wouldn’t believe her, or he’d tell her that she needed to learn to control her temper. Teachers, grown-ups, they never understood.

Thus it was that Gil was the one who spoke first.

“Begging your pardon, sir,” he said, “but Anne’s not at fault here. I am. I provoked her, I was… I was harassing her. She was completely justified in what she did.”

Anne gave him a disbelieving look, and the principal’s eyebrows shot up. “Nothing justifies assaulting another student in this school, Mr. Blythe,” he said.

“It was obvious that she wanted me to stop, and I didn’t,” Gil persisted. “She was just trying to get me to leave her alone. Please, sir, I’d feel terrible if she were punished on my account.”

Anne couldn’t help letting out a soft snort. Oh,  _ he’d _ feel terrible, would he? Nonetheless, the principal seemed to be contemplating his words rather seriously.

“Very well,” he said at length. “Since you are so determined to forgive and forget, Mr. Blythe, I will overlook this incident…  _ once,” _ he added, with a hard look at Anne. “If it happens again, I will treat it as a repeat offense, you understand?”

She nodded mutely.

“Now, there’s still the matter of damaging school property.” The principal retrieved some sort of official form from his desk drawer, retrieved a pen from a cup full of them, and began to write. “One hundred and fifty dollars to replace the tablet you broke, payable by the end of the week, or else you will be suspended until it is paid. Clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Anne muttered, her heart sinking as the form was slid across the principal’s desk to her. She had nowhere near that amount of money herself, meaning that she had no choice but to tell Matthew and Marilla what had happened.

“Right, then,” the principal said. “That seems to take care of all the issues at hand. Run along back to class, both of you.”

“I hope you aren’t expecting me to thank you for that,” Anne said as the door closed behind them.

Gil sighed. “No, I’m not,” he said, and then he was looking at her with such an intense look of sorrow and regret that for a dizzying moment, she was tempted to not only thank him anyway, but to  _ apologize _ for hitting him. She shook herself mentally. What the  _ hell, _ brain? There was no  _ way _ she was going to apologize for that.

“Right,” she said, a little more forcefully than she might have otherwise. “Well. Good.” She turned on her heel, striding away from Gil to return to class. It was only when she heard his footsteps following behind her that she remembered that, of course, they were both returning to the  _ same _ class. God  _ damn _ it.

- - -

Marilla’s face was unreadable as she slowly read over the form, which (Anne knew from reading over it herself) contained a fairly excruciating amount of detail about the incident earlier that day. Anne’s leg twisted back and forth as she stood before Marilla, shooting an occasional glance at where Matthew was sitting on the other side of the room, and taking comfort in the fact that he, at least, didn’t seem especially upset.

Finally, Marilla lowered the form, and Anne immediately began to speak.

“I am so,  _ so _ sorry, Marillia, I know that this was just horrible of me, and I didn’t  _ mean _ to cause so much trouble on my first day, I just got so  _ mad _ and I wasn’t thinking at all, and I’m really,  _ really _ sorry, so  _ please _ don’t send me away--”

“Nobody’s talking about sending you away, Anne!” Marilla said, holding up a hand to quell the outpouring. “Take a breath, for pity’s sake.” She sighed. “This was Gilbert Blythe, you said?”

Anne nodded.

“Now that’s a surprise,” Marilla said. “Here I would’ve expected that John had raised his son better than that…” She folded her hands in her lap atop the form. “You understand why what you did was wrong, yes?”

“Yes,” Anne agreed, looking down at the floor. It wasn’t strictly true, she didn’t really see how what she’d done was  _ wrong, _ per se--but she understood why everybody was so upset about it, and that was just as good, wasn’t it?

“Well, there you go,” Marilla said. “You’re clearly remorseful, so I think punishing you further at this point would be redundant. But I don’t want to hear anything about you smacking anyone over the head with another tablet, you understand?”

“That’s right, Anne,” Matthew added. “Next time, pop ‘em with your bare hands so they can’t put you on the hook for anything.”

Anne let out a giggle, then immediately composed herself as Marilla glared at both of them. 

“Very well.” Marilla sighed. “It’s not a small expense by any means… but it’s one that we’ll be able to cover.” She rose from her seat and crossed to where her purse sat in its little nook next to the front door, opening the main pocket to retrieve her billfold.

Anne’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry.”

“It’ll be all right, Anne. Just take that regret, and learn from it.”

- - -

Returning to school the next day was one of the most excruciating things Anne had ever had to do, and she wasn’t sure that she would’ve been able to do it if Diana hadn’t been by her side.

“I feel like people are staring at me,” she muttered, eyes flicking glumly back and forth as they walked down the hallway together.

Diana’s face pinched into a pained, sympathetic expression. “I think they might be,” she said apologetically. “Word’s gotten around about you… well…”

“Smacking Gilbert Blythe in the head?” Anne blew a breath out through her nose. “Well, I’m  _ not _ sorry I did it. He’d have gotten a lot worse than that if we hadn’t been on school grounds.”

Diana laughed. “Well, it’s not all bad,” she said. “I get the sense that there are more than a few people who were actually impressed. And in any event, you won’t have to put up with people talking for more than a week or so before the next bit of gossip comes along. That’s how these things tend to work.”

“It is,” Anne agreed. “Though in my experience, they never  _ entirely _ forget…” She came to a halt; they were standing in front of her locker. “See you in homeroom?”

“Of course.” Diana smiled and departed for her own locker.

Anne let out a heavy sigh as she began to turn the dial on the lock. Diana’s company aside, she was  _ not _ looking forward to homeroom. A couple of the ‘homeroom gals’--Josie for sure--struck her as catty types, who would certainly have a snide, barely-veiled insult ready the moment she walked in, and who knew how Ruby would react to Anne hitting her would-be paramour.

She swung the door to her locker open, and a rectangular white object fluttered lightly to the ground, having apparently been wedged between the door and the shelf. Anne frowned as she bent to pick it up. It was a plain white envelope, the sort anyone might use to send a letter, with her name written on the front in slightly messy cursive script. Wonderful, was she  _ already _ getting nasty notes shoved in her locker over this whole business? Well, no sense in putting off reading it and stewing over what it might say all through homeroom…

Flipping the envelope open--the flap hadn’t been sealed, only tucked inside--she blinked in surprise as her fingers found the unmistakable texture of banknotes. There were three of them, all fifty-dollar notes, a hundred and fifty dollars in total.  _ Why on earth…? _

There was a written note, too, on a scrap of plain paper tucked in front of the bank notes. She retrieved it and read it; it was short and to the point.

_ Anne - _

_ Because it really was my fault. _

_ \- GB _

That  _ bastard. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I had to do it to him.
> 
> (Side note, is it still enemies to lovers if the "enemies" part is one-sided and the other party just has a regular crush? ...asking for a friend)


	4. Chapter 4

Though there was a nip in the air, the sun was shining down, and the sounds of the forest around them were cheerful and pleasant. “This was a wonderful idea, Anne,” Diana said, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air and sighing contentedly on the exhale. “This is the perfect way to wind down after a full week of school and homework.”

Anne didn’t reply, her mind too busy attempting to plan out how the next few minutes were going to go. After all, she’d had an ulterior motive in inviting Diana on this impromptu Friday afternoon walk through the woods, far from prying eyes.

Whenever she’d watched movies or TV shows about capes, they always had a trusted friend who knew their secret and served as their confidante. Prior to coming to Avonlea, she’d all but given up on ever having such a confidante for herself--but then, she’d never imagined having such a fast friend as Diana, either. And unlike Marilla, Diana didn’t despise capes, she  _ adored _ them; Anne had seen her eyes light up more than once over the course of the past week, talking about some bit of news or obscure trivia that she’d picked up from her online message boards.

It made so much sense to reveal herself to Diana that it seemed like a natural conclusion. So why was her heart racing?

She sucked in a long breath through her nose and let it out through her mouth, willing her body to calm itself down. The first pricklings of the burning under her skin were beginning too.  _ Stop it, _ she thought irritably, then wondered if that would cause problems if Diana asked for a demonstration. She wasn’t really sure of the extent to which she could ‘negotiate’ with her powers, or how she was supposed to go about it--the incident from the day she’d hit Gil over the head was her only data point on the matter.

“Anne?” Diana’s voice had a trace of concern in it--she’d noticed how tense Anne was.

Well, do or die time. “Diana,” Anne said, turning to fully face her friend. Her hands fumbled awkwardly for a place to rest before finally lacing together in front of her belly, clutching each other tightly. “Can I… talk to you about something?”

“Of course.” Diana’s expression was worried and sincere and  _ good lord _ Anne could not properly express how dear this girl was to her heart. “Is something wrong?”

“No! No,” Anne said. “I mean, well maybe--that is, I guess it depends on--no, no, it isn’t. I just,” she pressed on, seeing Diana’s mounting confusion as she attempted to follow the firehose of words that was coming out of her mouth, “there’s something that I need to confess--no,  _ no, _ that’s not the right word at  _ all, _ I need to--need to--oh,  _ hell _ with it.” She let out a final huff of breath and transformed.

If Diana had looked confused before, now she was displaying nothing short of raw shock.

_ “So,” _ Anne said in her unearthly voice.  _ “This… is what I wanted to talk about.” _

Diana let out a small, strangled noise.

_ “Diana…?” _

“Oh my god,” Diana said, then repeated, “Oh my  _ god,” _ taking a single staggering step backwards and beginning to fan herself vigorously with her hand.

_ “Diana--!!” _ Anne rushed forward to hold Diana upright before she could topple over, gently guiding her over to a rock that was large enough to sit down on.

“I… I can’t believe…” Diana’s mouth, which had been hanging open in a perfect O, shifted shapes as the corners pulled apart into a wide grin. “I can’t believe that I’m friends with Avonlea’s local cape!  _ Oh my god!!” _

Anne grinned herself, and probably would’ve flushed with pleasure had she, you know, been in the form that actually had blood.  _ “I had a feeling you’d want to know,” _ she said.  _ “I haven’t told anyone else.” _

“Oh, your secret’s safe with me, of course! I swear on my life!” Diana made a serious expression to drive the point home, but she wasn’t able to hold it for very long. “Can I… can I see your powers?” she asked as her starstruck smile returned.

Anne flicked both arms upward, lengthening them into tendrils that wrapped around a large branch about a dozen feet over her head, then shortened them again to haul herself upwards.

“Amazing,” Diana breathed, gazing up at her from the ground. “Is it just your arms, or can you change the shape of your body, too?”

Anne grinned.  _ “Check it out,”  _ she said. This time it was her lower body that shifted, everything below her ribcage (if she’d had… well, the usual caveat) melding together into a single, long appendage, making her look something like a naga. With a burst of dexterity, she coiled around the branch she was hanging onto, letting go with her tendrils (and allowing them to relax back into the shape of arms and hands) and letting her torso hang upside-down off the branch while she gripped it with her lower body.

Diana clapped her hands, almost squealing with delight. “Oh, that’s  _ fantastic,” _ she said. “They said you can teleport, too?”

By way of reply, Anne flickered momentarily out of existence and reappeared in front of Diana, now back to fully humanoid form.

“Amazing!” Diana said again, hopping up and down slightly. “Oh, you’re simply  _ amazing, _ Anne!”

Anne didn’t reply. The sense of heaviness was beginning to pervade her form again, and with a sigh of irritation, she gave into it, relaxing back into her normal human body. “Confound it,” she grumbled. “I don’t think that was as good as Saturday night… I really should start using a stopwatch to keep track.”

“What do you mean?” Diana asked, frowning.

“There’s… some kind of limit to how long I can hold that form,” Anne said. “I don’t know exactly how it works. It seems to get better the more I practice, but that’s been slow going… I thought I’d had a breakthrough last weekend, because I didn’t even need to think about it when I was fighting off that drunkard, but now I seem to be back to where I was before that.”

“Interesting,” Diana said. “I’ve heard people talk about powers that are finicky like that before… I’ll have to look into that, see if I can come up with anything that’s worked for other capes.”

“Where do you find all this information on capes, Diana?” Anne asked as they fell into step beside each other, resuming their walk.

“The internet,” Diana replied. Realizing, off of Anne’s expression, that this was nowhere near a sufficient explanation, she elaborated, “There’s message boards and such where people will come together and talk about their favorite capes, or parahumans in general, that sort of thing. Parahumans Online’s the main one, though there’s smaller ones out there for people who are more interested in local cape scenes… or who think that the PHO admins are pushing an agenda.” She glanced sideways. “You’ve never been on any of them, Anne?”

“I don’t really use the internet for social things,” Anne admitted. “Mostly just for reading… public domain books, web serials, that kind of thing. I tried to make friends on the internet once, a long time ago, but…”

“Ah,” Diana said, understanding. They walked in silence for a minute. “So… what made you choose the name Princess?”

_ “Ugh,” _ Anne snorted. “That  _ stupid _ name… I, um, used to make up stories about Princess Cordelia to… um, to entertain myself, I guess. I hadn’t even thought about having a cape name before, so when the woman asked me who I was, I kind of panicked and blurted out the first thing I could think of… so now it looks like I’m stuck with the worst cape name in existence.”

“I suppose it is lacking a certain  _ je ne sais quoi,” _ Diana said diplomatically. “Still, you’re very early on in your career, seeing as you’ve only made the one public appearance so far. I’m sure if you started calling yourself by a different name, people would go along with it.”

“Do you think so?” Anne hummed thoughtfully to herself. If she had a chance to redo the whole name business, putting a proper amount of thought into it this time… “Well, in that case… I’ll have to come up with something elegant, yet evocative. What do you think of… Bluefire?”

“Taken,” Diana said immediately. “She’s a pyrokinetic down in Ontario.”

“Oh.” Anne pouted. “That’s going to be an issue, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so,” Diana said apologetically. “There’s tens of thousands of active parahumans in North America alone. You could get away with using the same name as the more obscure ones, but you really  _ don’t _ want to do that with anybody who has name recognition outside their home region. It’s just asking for trouble.”

“Well, that’s a bother.” Anne sighed, turning over possibilities in her head. “Well, I’m the only cape in Avonlea, right? So if I reference that, then it stands to reason that nobody else would be using the name… what about something alliterative, like ‘Avonlea Ace’?”

“That sounds like a prizefighter,” Diana said. “Besides, it’d come across strangely if you ever left Avonlea.”

Anne didn’t even want to  _ think _ about leaving Avonlea, not when it had so recently become home for her, but she couldn’t dispute the first point. “Fine, that’s a non-starter,” she said. “I suppose I’ll just have to spitball until I come across something that isn’t taken. Fire’s not really an appropriate motif for my identity anyway, seeing as I’m not actually made of fire. Maybe something more… beautiful and ethereal, like a faerie queen…”

Diana’s expression turned stricken. “Anne, you don’t want to go that route.”

“Why not?”

“Glaistig Uaine,” Diana said simply.

“What’s that?”

“Just… trust me on this one, Anne.”

“Fine! Ugh,” Anne groaned. “No faerie queens. Let’s see, something supernatural and ethereal… looks like flames, but isn’t flames… a flickering apparition…” An idea clicked into place in her head. “I suppose the name ‘Will-o-Wisp’ is already taken?” she asked cautiously.

Diana looked up at the sky, thinking. “...oddly enough, I can’t think of any capes that have that name, offhand,” she said. “I mean, I’ll look it up when I get home, to be sure… but that actually might work.”

“Brilliant.” Anne beamed. “I’ll think of some more as a backup, but… let’s go with that one for now.”

- - -

Matthew was in the living room, watching the news again, when she returned to Green Gables. “Well, hello,” he said, looking over at her. “Bit late today, aren’t you?”

“I decided to go for a walk with Diana,” Anne said. “It was a lovely day for it. Anything interesting happen out in the world?” she added, nodding at the television.

“Matter of fact,” Matthew said, waving her over, “some kind of thing down in Halifax. Villain causing trouble downtown, or something. Seems the Protectorate had to step in to stop it.”

Anne took up a position behind Matthew’s chair. The television was currently displaying what appeared to be phone footage of the incident, shaky and a bit blurry, but still clear enough to see what was going on. A cape was striding forward, clad in a bodysuit that ran up over his head in a cowl that left his mouth and chin uncovered, dropping down to a short capelet that ran around his shoulders. Most of the bodysuit was charcoal grey, but highlights in three different colors ran in stripes down three different parts of it: red for the arms, blue for the legs, yellow for the torso. Anne had heard Diana talk about this one: Triple Threat, the leader of the Halifax Protectorate.

As they watched, Triple Threat engaged what appeared to be some kind of metal construct, an ovular core with an odd number of thick, tarantula-like legs sprouting off it in all directions. It lifted one in an overhead swing, attempting to crush him, but with a minimum in apparent effort, he caught it in his arms and wrenched, tearing it away from the center, prompting a gasp from Anne and an exclamation of “oooh” from Matthew. Diana had said that Triple Threat had three powers--enhanced strength and toughness, flight, and concussive energy blasts. Furthermore, he had some kind of ability to adjust the balance between them, strengthening any of them at the cost of weakening the others. This, according to Diana, made him a ‘trump’, whatever that meant.

“Makes you glad we live far away from any of this sort of thing, doesn’t it?” Matthew asked, glancing over his shoulder at Anne.

Anne didn’t respond. An anxious knot formed in her stomach as the video shifted focus to another cape--one she recognized by sight, but whose name she didn’t remember. He let loose with an energy blast from one hand that struck a van lying on its side in the street, making it pulse briefly with energy. Then, with a sweeping gesture, he sent the van flying at the damaged metal construct. Would she ever be called on to deal with a situation like this? Would she be up to it if she was?

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, interrupting her thoughts. Diana had texted her.  _ Only hit is some guy down in southern US - barely two sentences on the PHO wiki. Should be fine. We on for tomorrow? _

“Matthew,” Anne said, looking up from her phone. “Diana and I were hoping to go out together during the day tomorrow. Is that all right?”

“Hm?” Matthew said, looking back. “Oh--well, as long as your homework gets done sometime this weekend, I don’t see why not.”

“Thanks,” Anne said, grinning. She returned her attention to her phone and tapped out a reply to Diana.

_ we’re on. _

- - -

Anne took a deep breath, blew it back out, inhaled again. “I am nervous beyond belief right now,” she admitted.

“You’ll do fine, Anne,” Diana said encouragingly.

Needless to say, Main Street in the middle of the day on a weekend was far more busy than it had been in the middle of the night. Dozens of people were going about their business, walking up and down the street, periodically stopping to exchange greetings when they saw somebody they recognized--which, in a town this small, was fairly often. Some even seemed to be there simply to stroll, going along at a leisurely pace in the sunlight or getting involved in extended conversations on street corners.

“Ready?” Diana asked.

“No,” Anne said, then transformed anyway.

With a blink, she was up atop the building whose alleyway she and Diana had been concealed in, overlooking the street. It was a bit of an odd sensation, seeing the bustle from up above. It reminded her a bit more of looking down from one of the taller buildings in Halifax; that sort of perspective just didn’t seem entirely right on a town like Avonlea, somehow, as though it were meant to be viewed from street level.

(“How likely do you think I am to actually see a crime in progress?” she’d asked Diana while they were planning this outing.

“You almost certainly won’t,” Diana had replied. “Avonlea doesn’t have much of a crime rate to begin with, and the ones that do happen, don’t happen on Main Street in the middle of the day. This isn’t about stopping crimes, Anne, this is about  _ visibility.”) _

Well, Anne certainly was visible, posing on the edge of the rooftop, the edges of her form wavering slightly of their own accord. The people below were still going about their business, though, giving no sign that they’d noticed her. Was nobody looking up? Anne gazed up at the sky all the time, surely  _ somebody _ else here would--

_ “Oh my god!” _ she heard somebody call from the street below.  _ “Up there, look!” _ Anne grinned slightly as she recognized Diana’s voice. Of course her friend had a backup plan to make sure people saw her.

_ Now _ they were looking at her, the faint sound of exclamations reaching her as people’s faces turned upward. Hesitantly, Anne lifted a hand and waved at them. Diana had said she should go down and talk to people, establish herself more firmly in the town than a distant presence… but who should she pick? Her eyes landed on three people she recognized immediately--Ruby, Jane, and Tillie. All three of them were gaping up at her, but Ruby in particular had an almost star-struck expression, her eyes shining.

Coming to a decision, Anne blinked out of existence. A fresh round of exclamations rippled out around her as she reappeared in front of Ruby.

_ “Hello,” _ she said, lifting a hand in greeting.

“H-hi,” Ruby stuttered, looking like she was on the verge of passing out. “Oh wow. Oh,  _ wow. _ It’s… Princess, right?”

Anne tried to keep from grimacing and didn’t quite succeed.  _ “That was… a misunderstanding. You can call me Will-o-Wisp.” _

“Will-o-Wisp,” Ruby repeated breathily. “That’s so pretty.  _ You’re _ so pretty.”

Once again, Anne was grateful that she couldn’t blush in her transformed state.  _ “Thank you,” _ she said.  _ “I just… wanted to come out today and say hello to Avonlea. So… hello, I guess.” _ She turned her eyes from Ruby, looking at Jane and Tillie in turn. The two other girls were clearly much more wary of her, but they offered hesitant smiles as they met her gaze. She’d take it.

Anne was opening her mouth to say something else when she felt the heaviness beginning to drag at her form.  _ “Excuse me for a moment,”  _ she said quickly, then flickered again, reappearing on a nearby rooftop--this time far enough back from the edge that she was out of sight of the street below.

_ Confound it all, _ she thought grumpily as she flopped down onto her back, dropping back into her human body. Of  _ course _ her power would pick today of all days to be especially finicky. That had been even less time than she’d managed in the woods with Diana yesterday… she was pretty sure, anyway. She  _ really _ needed to get a stopwatch so she could start keeping track.

(“Don’t make excuses when you need to change back,” Diana had instructed her, “and  _ definitely _ don’t explain why you need to go--you don’t want that information floating around out there. Just say you have to go, and then go. If you’re confident about it, people will just accept it.”)

Well, she’d certainly made an impression, judging from the amount of chatter that was drifting up to the rooftop from the street. Anne couldn’t help but smile, taking deep breaths as she lay on the rooftop. She’d take a couple of minutes here to recoup her stamina, or whatever it was that kept her in her transformed state, and then put in another appearance.

Once she felt ready, she rolled back up to her feet, transformed, and flickered back down to the street.  _ “Hello again, every--” _ she began to say, then stopped short.

“Hello yourself.” Gil was looking at her with a look of astonishment that was rapidly morphing into an absolutely  _ insufferable _ smile. Somehow, jumping blind, she’d managed to teleport directly in front of him.

God  _ damn _ it.

“So this is the new cape in town that’s got everybody all in a stir?” The question had come from a black man standing next to Gil, who was speaking with a very distinct Carribean accent. Anne felt a stirring of curiosity there, but it wasn’t quite enough to break through her irritation, so she filed it away for later.

“So it would seem,” Gil said. He was studying Anne’s altered form with apparent interest. “You go by ‘Princess’, right?”

_ “Will-o-Wisp,” _ Anne said, more shortly than she’d intended to. Suddenly becoming extremely conscious of the fact that there was a crowd gathering around them--she saw at least a couple of phones out, snapping photos or recording--she amended,  _ “There was kind of a miscommunication about that… I’m going by Will-o-Wisp, now.” _

“Will-o-Wisp, got it. Very cool.” Anne couldn’t tell if Gil was being ironic, given his smirk; she decided to stay on the safe side and remain annoyed at him. “Well, uh, welcome, I guess? Unless you’ve lived here the whole time and just developed your powers recently, in which case… anyway, the point is, it’s kind of cool having you around.”

_ “Thanks,” _ Anne said tersely, just barely managing to hold back from snorting. Hadn’t he compared her to Nilbog, before? She’d asked Diana to explain afterwards, and the comparison had been even less flattering than she’d realized.  _ Yeah, I sure hope they’re not going to put the whole town under quarantine because of me,  _ **_Gilbert!_ **

Sadly, she couldn’t call him out on that one without outing herself.

She was so caught up in her irritation that she didn’t notice the man with Gil fishing his phone out of his pocket. “Hey, Gil, you mind getting a picture of me with, ah, Will-o-Wisp here?” he said. “Mary’s gonna freak out when she sees it.”

“How about one with both of us? Let’s see, um… oh, Diana,” Gil said, looking at where Diana had just materialized at his elbow. “You mind getting a picture of me and Bash with Will-o-Wisp?”

“Of course,” Diana said, taking the phone and flashing an excited look at Anne. Anne didn’t quite have it in her to return the look, though she wasn’t sure how well her expression came across in her transformed state anyway. Nonetheless, she tried her best not to look actively pissed as Gil and the other man--Bash--took up positions to either side of her. “Okay, one, two, three!” Diana said, snapping the picture.

Out of the corner of her eye, Anne noticed that Gil was giving the camera an enthusiastic thumbs-up.  _ Dork. _

“Anybody else want pictures?” Diana called out. “I’m happy to take them for anybody who wants them--”

“Well, I guess I should leave you to your adoring public,” Gil said as a few more people crowded forward. “I’ll be seeing you around, I suppose?”

_ “Probably,” _ Anne replied.  _ Unfortunately, _ she thought simultaneously.

Gil flashed her one last smile as he and Bash walked away, leaving Anne to grumpily pose with the next person in line. Diana dutifully accepted phones from people as they stepped up, snapping photo after photo with almost assembly-line efficiency and precision; eventually Anne’s bad mood began to filter away, and she got back into the spirit of the whole thing. Almost as soon as she had, though, she felt the heaviness begin to set in again.  _ “Sorry, that’s all the pictures I have time for!” _ she said quickly.  _ “Thank you, everyone, and, um… don’t worry, I’ll be keeping an eye on things!” _ She blinked away to another rooftop, relaxing back to human.  _ And back down to earth for me. _

Diana was waiting for her when she finally picked her way down the rear side of the building to the ground below. “That was  _ perfect, _ Anne!” she all but squealed. “That’ll serve you much better than a single eyewitness on the news. By the end of tonight, I guarantee that every single person in Avonlea is going to know your name!”

“I suppose they will.” Anne laughed softly. “Oh Diana… thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Languish in obscurity, clearly,” Diana replied, teasing. Anne laughed again, more freely this time, and the two of them set out for home.

“I was a bit surprised, I have to admit,” Diana said as they walked. “You had so much trouble holding the transformation the first time, when you talked to Ruby… that was barely a minute or two all told, I’d say. But then the second time, you held it for much longer, and it didn’t seem to be bothering you at all. What was the difference?”

Anne muttered incoherently under her breath.

“Anne?”

“Gilbert Blythe,” Anne admitted. “I wasn’t expecting to run into him. I think I was too caught up in that to worry about holding the transformation. He’s just so  _ annoying, _ I get aggravated every time he’s near me.”

Diana blinked, obviously surprised. “Really? That’s kind of unfortunate--well, never mind.” She shook her head, apparently deciding against elaborating on what she’d meant. “So you were irritated at him, and that helped you sustain it?”

“Basically.”

“Hmm,” Diana hummed thoughtfully. “Last weekend, your first appearance--you said you were occupied fighting the drunkard, and that’s why you didn’t have trouble holding it that time?”

“Yes,” Anne said, raising an eyebrow.

“I wonder… I’ve heard that some powers have a psychological component to them, a sort of state of mind you have to get into in order to make them work, or to make them work more effectively. I wonder if yours wants you to feel…  _ combative, _ I guess?”

“Combative?” Anne pursed her lips, thinking. “That… makes sense given the evidence. But how am I supposed to find combative situations in a town this quiet?”

“Maybe you could contrive to have Gil nearby whenever you need to make an appearance,” Diana said, eyes sparkling.

“Ugh,” Anne said with a shudder. “If that’s my only option, then I quit being a cape here and now.”

Diana laughed. “Well, at least he seems to be a fan of Will-o-Wisp? Now that he’s seen you in person, anyway.”

“Oh yes,” Anne replied, smiling dangerously. “I’m  _ very much _ looking forward to giving him grief about that on Monday. Nilbog  _ indeed.” _

- - -

There was a stream of chatter coming from Green Gables’ dining room when Anne walked in the front door. She soon located its source: Mrs. Lynde had apparently invited herself over again, and was busily talking to Marilla (or  _ at _ Marilla, as the case may have been). “Anne!” Mrs. Lynde said, her head swiveling around as Anne shut the door behind her. “Goodness gracious. Were you just downtown?”

“No,” Anne said quickly and, she hoped, innocently. “Diana and I were out for a walk in the woods.”

“Didn’t you two go for a walk in the woods yesterday?” Marilla asked, frowning.

“I  _ like _ the woods,” Anne said, a touch defensively. “They provide, you know… scope for the imagination.”

“Never mind that, never mind!” Mrs. Lynde said, gesturing furiously. “Anne, you listen to this… you know that cape that everyone’s been talking about, the one from last weekend? Well, word is that she just put in an appearance downtown--I’m talking a proper one, in front of dozens of people!”

“No!” Anne said, affecting surprise. And she  _ was _ a bit surprised--it couldn’t have taken twenty minutes for her and Diana to walk home from that particular ‘appearance’. Clearly Mrs. Lynde’s reputation as a master of town gossip was well-earned. “Diana’s going to be over the  _ moon.” _

“Well, I’m glad  _ she’s _ happy,” Mrs. Lynde huffed. “A cape setting up shop in Avonlea, can you imagine? What’s next, an Endbringer comes to pay us a visit?”

Marilla shuddered. “Don’t even say that, Rachel. I still remember that horrible storm, the day Newfoundland sank…”

Anne looked back and forth between the two older women, her heart sinking a little bit. “Surely it’s not all bad…?” she said tentatively. “I mean, capes do good things as well. Wasn’t it just the other day that the Protectorate was out protecting people in Halifax?”

“Yes--from another cape,” said Mrs. Lynde. “And that’s the trick of it. Good capes, bad capes, in the end, it’s all of them causing trouble, and all of us getting caught in the middle.”

“Avonlea’s gotten along perfectly well for decades without a cape to its name,” Marilla agreed. “I don’t see how this one showing up can mean anything but trouble.”

“Oh,” Anne said simply. Then, searching for an excuse to leave before either of them could ask why she was so dejected, she added, “I--homework. I should work on it.” She bounded up the stairs, leaving a slightly confused Marilla and Mrs. Lynde in her wake.

_ In the end, it’s all of them causing trouble, and all of us getting caught in the middle.  _ Mrs. Lynde’s words niggled at her as she went down the hallway to her room. Part of her wanted to be indignant. She  _ was _ going to be a good cape, and she  _ was _ going to help the people of Avonlea--they’d see.

Another part of her, though, couldn’t help but draw a line between that and what Diana had theorized earlier, about her powers working better when she was feeling combative. Not only did that seem plausible, but there was also the fact that they had a tendency to flare up when she was upset, almost like they were pushing her to use them to fight back.

In that light… it almost seemed like they  _ wanted _ her to go out and cause trouble.

Her phone buzzed--Diana had texted her.  _ Huge success, _ her message read.  _ Everybody’s already talking about you--online, through the grapevine, everywhere. You’re FAMOUS! _

Anne smiled, her spirits lifting back up a bit. At least she had one person in her corner. Whatever anyone else thought of her, whatever her powers wanted of her, she resolved then that she would be the best cape ever--for Diana.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everybody! It's certainly been an... eventful week or so since the last chapter dropped.
> 
> For those who haven't heard the spiel before, I'm around on Tumblr; you can find me at that-guy-writes. Feel free to drop me a line if you're feeling bored or just chatty.


	5. Chapter 5

The buzz around Avonlea’s new cape hadn’t died down by Monday morning--if anything, having a building full of teenagers together in the same place for the first time since Will-o-Wisp’s debut seemed to stoke it back up to a fever pitch. Anne couldn’t help but have a goofy grin plastered across her face as she went about her first couple of classes. Sure, she and Diana were the only ones who knew that the people gushing about the mysterious but beautiful hero were also, by extension, gushing about the awkward, red-haired new girl… but she’d take what she could get.

(She held herself back from skipping through the hallways, though. Some things were simply excessive.)

“...and she talked to me!” Ruby was saying as they sat in their usual spots for Social Studies. “She appeared right in front of me and she said _hello_ to me!”

“Yes, Ruby, you told us in homeroom,” Diana replied, smiling tolerantly.

“You expect me to only talk about it _once?!”_ Ruby’s tone was indignant--adorably indignant. “When it’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me in my _entire life?”_

Anne’s grin, still stuck on her face as it had been all morning, grew wider. She’d _never_ been described as the greatest thing to happen to anybody, ever before. It was definitely something she could get used to. She felt a flush rise slightly in her cheeks, and turned her face away to hide it before Ruby could notice and ask any awkward questions.

As it happened, she turned just in time to see an irksomely familiar form settle into the seat next to her.

Tablets to the head notwithstanding, Gil had persisted in sitting next to her in every class since then. Thankfully, he had at least given up on his juvenile attempts to get her attention, only speaking to her when she spoke to him first (which, given how often he said totally boneheaded things that just begged to be refuted, was… more often than she would’ve liked). He flashed her a small smile, as he usually did when he caught her looking at him. Unlike usual, Anne didn’t look pointedly away in response. No, for once, she’d been looking _forward_ to seeing him.

“So what are we talking about this morning?” he asked, gaze drifting over to Diana and Ruby.

Oh, she was _not_ letting that one go that easy. “What do you _think_ we’re talking about?” she asked, eyebrows raised, challenging.

Gil didn’t miss a beat. “The weather, I’m sure,” he replied, deadpan save for a gleam in his eye as he looked back at her. “It was just lovely this weekend.”

“We’re talking about _Will-o-Wisp,_ of course!” Ruby said as Anne rolled her eyes.

“Oh, that’s right,” Gil said, an annoying smirk creeping onto his face. “Now that you mention it, I do remember hearing something about that.”

“I met her!” Ruby said, for probably about the seventh time that morning. “She was right there in front of me, and I _met her!”_

“Wait, did I said I ‘heard something about that?’” Gil replied, fishing in his pocket. “Sorry, what I meant was…” Anne made a quiet, irritated noise under her breath. Gil pulled out his phone and presented it to the three of them, screen-first. Sure enough, there was the photo of him and Bash posing with Anne--or Will-o-Wisp, rather. Anne was somewhat relieved to see that she wasn’t visibly scowling in the picture.

“That’s a good picture,” Diana said.

“Thanks to a talented photographer, clearly,” Gil replied, drawing a chuckle from her.

“Oh my _god,”_ Ruby gasped, leaning in to get a better look. “You got a _picture_ with her?! Why didn’t I think to get a picture?!”

“Well, I wouldn’t blame you for being a bit star-struck,” Gil said, returning his phone to his pocket. “What with meeting Avonlea’s biggest celebrity in the… well, flesh, if you’ll forgive the turn of phrase.”

It was the opening Anne had been waiting for, and she pounced without hesitation. “So she’s ‘Avonlea’s biggest celebrity’ now, is she?” she asked, tone deceptively idle.

Gil’s brows knit together in puzzlement. “Well, yes,” he said. “Everyone in town is talking about her, after all.”

“I see.” Anne twirled her pencil between her fingers, continuing to feign innocence as she snapped the rhetorical trap shut around him. “And you weren’t scared at all, meeting her face-to-face? Weren’t afraid that she might, I don’t know, turn your body into a slurry of organic material, and use it to make some kind of demented abomination?” To her other side, she heard Diana let out a long-suffering sigh, but she was too committed to care about that now.

Gil blinked stupidly a few times before it clicked. “Wait, is this about me bringing up Nilbog the other day?”

“I’m just saying,” Anne replied. “You seemed to think that she might pose some sort of _threat_ to the town. I can see why; that’s a very _threatening_ selfie you snapped with her there.”

Gil stared at her for a moment, and she locked eyes with him, searching his expression for some signal of her victory. Instead, he dropped his gaze away, ducking his head slightly as he let out a low chuckle. “Okay, fine, point to Anne,” he said good-humoredly. “I concede that maybe she _isn’t_ as bad as Nilbog.” God _damn_ it. What did it take to get under this guy’s skin? “My point about the power dynamics of capes in small towns stands, though.”

Anne snorted. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to hope that Will-o-Wisp doesn’t start going around murdering people at random, then.”

“I mean, yes, I do hope that,” Gil replied, still smirking.

Bastard.

\- - -

As usual, Gil’s insufferable presence had managed to rankle Anne’s good mood into a sour one. Unfortunately, she had to continue putting up with it, as it had turned out that he was _also_ in the class she had after Social Studies, _and_ in her Phys Ed section following lunchtime. The whole thing was enough to make her think that her life was just a story being written by a sadistic author who loved watching her suffer.

Relief came only in the final class of the day, and _that_ brought its own set of frustrations. Anne had initially been thrilled to have found a spot in Art for her elective class, seeing it as “a sorely needed outlet for the font of creativity that bubbles up from deep within my soul” (or so she had remarked to Marilla). Unfortunately, it had turned out that her gift with words didn’t exactly translate into automatic talent at _other_ forms of artistic expression.

Anne gritted her teeth as she traced a pastel across her paper, hating the stroke even as she drew it. The teacher had already had to pull her aside and talk about her habit of trashing her creations in frustration the moment they didn’t meet her expectations. Why were her stupid hands so _bad_ at expressing the beautiful things she saw in her head?

With a resigned sigh, she glanced away from her work to look at her neighbor’s--and felt her breath catch slightly at the sight. The boy she shared her desk with was fairly quiet and withdrawn, but his talent was undeniable, and today was no exception. Working with confident purpose, he’d used his pastels to create a beautifully textured image of a humanoid figure composed of a flickering, ethereal blue substance-- _her,_ as Will-o-Wisp, depicted in a moment of quiet, graceful contemplation.

“Wow,” she gasped. He started slightly at the noise, pastel lifting off of the paper. “Sorry,” she added. “It’s just… that’s beautiful.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he said, returning to work on it. “I just saw a picture of her online, and it, well…”

“Gave you scope for your imagination?” Anne finished.

He glanced sideways at her, amused. “You could put it like that, sure.” His pastel laid down several more carefully-placed strokes, and then he ran one finger over them, smudging them into a beautiful blend of shades. “It’s… Anne, isn’t it?”

“That’s me,” she said. “Cole, right?”

“Yep,” he said. “Nice to officially meet you, I guess.”

“A rare pleasure,” Anne agreed, beaming at him. She watched him work for a few moments more. _“How_ are you this good at art?” she asked. “Every single thing I’ve seen you make is just _brilliant.”_

“I… thanks,” Cole said, flushing slightly. “It’s just practice. I’ve been drawing things since before I could walk, or so my mom tells me.”

Anne blew out an annoyed breath. “I was hoping you’d have a secret to your genius that you could share with me.”

“The secret is practice,” Cole replied dryly. He looked over at what Anne was working on. “Speaking of which… um, I don’t want to blow you off or anything, but…”

...but she needed to get working on it if she was going to have any chance of finishing by the end of class. “Right,” she said quickly, setting back to work with her own pastel, and instantly hating what came out.

By the end of class, she had somehow managed to scrape together something that vaguely resembled what she’d been going for… if she squinted at it, anyway. “So how much practice are we talking here, exactly?” she asked Cole as the bell rang and the two of them began packing up their projects.

“However much you’ve had to date?” he replied, the same dry edge in his voice. “A little bit more than that. Always.”

A thought struck Anne as she watched him slide his portrait of Will-o-Wisp into a folder so that it could survive the rigors of being carried in his backpack. “Hey, Cole, do you have anywhere to be?” she asked.

“Huh?” he said. “I was just going to go home. Why?”

“If you have a few minutes… I have a friend who’d _really_ love seeing that.”

“Oh.” He blinked, momentarily resembling a startled fawn looking into a bright light. “I mean… sure, I guess.”

“Great!” Anne slipped her backpack on and made a beeline for the door, leaving him to fumble with his own bag as he rushed to keep up with her. Fortunately, he had long legs. She led him on an intricate course through the halls, weaving around and through the press of students with an ease that he had trouble replicating with his lankier build. “Diana!” she called out as they approached her destination.

Diana, standing in front of her locker, turned away from a conversation with Jane at the sound of her name. “Anne, hi!” Her eyes shifted over to Cole, registering that he was traveling along with her friend. “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” he said, coming to a stop behind Anne. “Diana, right? I’m Cole.”

Diana nodded. “Yes, I’ve seen you around. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Cole has something that you’re going to _love,_ Diana,” Anne said, a bit breathlessly.

Off of Diana’s curious look, Cole fumbled his drawing out of his bag. “It’s just something I did in art this afternoon,” he mumbled, opening the folder up and passing it over to her.

Diana’s eyes widened and her lips parted slightly as she looked down at it. “It’s _amazing._ You’ve really managed to capture her in this, Cole!”

“Huh,” Jane commented, looking over her shoulder. “Yeah, that’s pretty good.”

“Anne thought you’d like it,” Cole said, rubbing slightly at the back of his head.

“Anne was right, clever girl that she is.” Diana looked up at him, eyes sparkling slightly. “Cole… if you don’t mind… I’m intending to put together a bit of a fan club for Will-o-Wisp, seeing as she’s our local hero and all. This would work perfectly for something that I have in mind, if you don’t mind me using it?”

“O-oh, sure,” Cole said. His face had begun to turn slightly red. “Yeah, go ahead and use it for whatever, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you!” Diana said, beaming. “Is it all right for me to take this home tonight so I can scan it? I promise I’ll take _excellent_ care of it, and return it to you tomorrow in pristine condition.”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“What you got there, Picasso?”

All four of them turned in the direction of the intruding voice, and Anne heard Jane mutter a quiet but distinct, “Oh, _great.”_ A boy was swaggering towards them, a bit shorter than Cole but stockier, with a blonde crew cut and the slightly squinty eyes that all the jerk types seemed to have, for some reason.

“Trying to woo the ladies with that sensitive artistic spirit, Picasso?” the boy said, coming to a stop in front of them. “I mean, who knows, one of them might actually be desperate enough to go for it.”

“Lay _off,_ Billy,” Jane snapped.

Cole had been acting shy in front of Diana, but now he’d positively folded in on himself, hunching his shoulders and dropping his gaze to the floor. Anne’s innards lurched unpleasantly at the sight. It didn’t take a social genius to read the dynamic here.

“I’m not talking to you, Jane,” Billy sneered. “I’m talking to Picasso here. Hey, Picasso, got anything to say?”

Anne took a step forward, positioning herself between Cole and Billy. “Picasso was a surrealist painter, that makes no sense,” she said. “Cole’s style is totally different.”

Billy blinked. “Wha--”

“Also, leave Cole alone, you bully!”

Billy shook his head, recovering from the unexpected intrusion. “I’m not talking to you _either,_ Red,” he growled. “Wait, hold on--red hair, braids, freckles… ha, aren’t you the weirdo who cracked Gilbert Blythe over the head? It’s a regular freak convention in here!”

Anne’s hand curled into a fist, her blood boiling. The burning under her skin had flared up, too, and wasn’t _that_ a tempting prospect, though she would’ve settled for a regular old pop in the face with her fist. She was already on notice from the tablet incident, though, and starting any more fights would land her in a _lot_ of trouble.

But, she realized in a flash of insight, Billy didn’t know that.

She took another step forward, deliberately inserting herself into his space. “Yeah, I _am_ the weirdo who cracked Gil over the head,” she said. “What about it?”

She was rewarded by Billy taking a step backward, the smug smirk on his face melting away into uncertainty. “What’s your problem?” he snarled, trying to recover.

_“You’re_ my problem,” Anne snapped. “You planning to do something about that?”

Billy hesitated, caught in an impossible conundrum. The hall was full of students watching the confrontation--if he backed down now, he’d be doing so in front of all of them. If he started a fight, though, he’d have to live down the reputation of starting a fight with a girl, doubly so if Anne wound up winning. It wasn’t often that gender dynamics worked in her favor, Anne reflected with savage satisfaction. Not that she’d mind particularly if he _did_ start a fight; at least then she’d be able to say that he threw the first punch.

After a few moments of consideration, though, Billy apparently decided to go the route that didn’t involve subsequent disciplinary action. “Whatever,” he sneered eloquently, backing away several steps before turning to depart with what he apparently thought was a confident stride.

Anne blew out a frustrated breath. Objectively, of course, she knew that this was the most desirable outcome. Emotionally, though, it was _immensely_ unfulfilling to end that confrontation without punching Billy’s stupid face at least a little. She turned back to see Diana and Jane both gaping at her slightly.

“Anne, that was _incredible,”_ Diana said.

“Oh--I mean, I--” Anne was momentarily wrongfooted; she hadn’t even been thinking about the fact that her friends were watching, much less what they would think of her. She shifted her attention over to Cole, who was still looking like he wanted to melt away into the floor. “Um, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, then added, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mind him,” Diana said, laying a hand on his shoulder (Cole started slightly as she did so, despite the gentleness of the gesture). “He’s an idiot and a bully. Jane, your brother is the worst.”

“You think _you_ hate him?” Jane replied, rolling her eyes. “I have to live in the same house as him.” She looked at Anne, and there was something odd in her expression, a sort of gleam in her eyes--if she hadn’t known better, Anne almost would’ve called it _respect._ “Can you teach me how to do that?” Jane asked, and Anne got the sense that she was only half-joking.

“Um.” Anne rubbed the back of her neck. “I mean, it helps a lot if you already have a reputation for… well, for actually hitting people who upset you.”

Jane nodded seriously. “So what you’re saying is, the next time one of the Pauls makes a pass at Tillie--”

“Jane!” Diana exclaimed, failing to entirely hide her amusement beneath the admonishment.

“I, um.” Cole shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I should probably, uh…”

“You’re _sure_ you’re okay?” Anne asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” The corners of Cole’s lips turned up in the barest hint of a smile. “I… guess I’ll see you in art class?”

Anne grinned at him. “I mean, please do say hello if you see me in the hallway before then.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Cole’s tiny smile widened into a grin of his own. “See you later, Anne.”

\- - -

Diana was as good as her word (of course), returning Cole’s portrait in pristine condition the following day. When pressed on the subject of what she intended to do with the digital copy she’d made, though, she simply smiled and replied “A girl’s got to have her secrets, hasn’t she?” Even when Anne wheedled her in private, she got no response more telling than, “I want it to be a surprise--but you’re going to _love_ it, Anne.”

The scheme didn’t bear fruit until the following week, when Anne settled down next to Diana for homeroom as usual. “Good morning, Anne,” Diana said brightly, turning in her seat so that her entire body faced her. “How are you doing today?”

Anne was on the verge of replying when her eyes flicked down to what Diana was wearing--and then flicked down a second time, widening in shock. “Diana, how--?!” Her friend was wearing a black t-shirt beneath an open blouse--and the t-shirt was emblazoned with Cole’s portrait of Will-o-Wisp.

“There’s websites that let you do this sort of thing,” Diana replied, laughing. “Didn’t you know that?”

Anne had in fact never heard of such a thing, but she didn’t have the wit to say so at the moment, being too busy gawping at the sight of herself--herself as Will-o-Wisp, granted, but still _herself_ \--emblazoned on a novelty shirt. “You were right, Diana,” she said. “I _love_ it!”

“It’s brilliant, isn’t it?” Ruby chimed in from the other side of Diana, her face lighting up entirely as she smiled at Anne. She’d warmed up considerably over the last couple of weeks, having apparently decided that the tablet incident meant Anne wasn’t intending to poach Gil’s affections away from her anytime soon--and of course, they’d bonded over Ruby’s bubbly adoration of Will-o-Wisp. “Is there any chance _I_ can get a shirt like that, Diana?”

“Of course!” Diana said. “Now that I’ve got it all set up, I can make them to order--as many as I like.” She looked back over at Anne. “I can make one for you too, if you like.”

Anne shook her head quickly. “No--no, I’m fine.” Wearing a shirt with a picture of herself on it--even if nobody knew--just felt horribly self-indulgent.

Diana smirked, apparently picking up on the subtext behind Anne’s refusal. “Well, I imagine a number of people are going to want them,” she said. “Seeing as everybody’s so excited about the new cape, and it _is_ a very good depiction of her… hmm. I should probably start a list. Ruby, would you mind seeing if anybody you know wants one…?”

Anne was on cloud nine for the remainder of homeroom, and all through Spanish. Dear, wonderful Diana, putting in all this work to get Anne’s cape persona out there, known and adored by the public. She was so filled with gratitude that she could barely muster a hint of annoyance when she came in to Social Studies and saw that Diana and Gil, who had both arrived before her, had left her usual seat between them open. Anne had hoped that someday Diana might think of sitting next to Gil herself, and thus spare Anne the aggravation, but it seemed that today would not be that day.

“...so it’d just be a nominal fee to cover what the site charges to make and ship the shirt,” Diana was saying to Gil as Anne approached. “Plus a small fee for the artist, of course. Cole MacKenzie--do you know him?”

“I think I have a couple of classes with him, yeah,” Gil said. “So what all are the fitting options? I’m tall, but lanky enough that larges tend to be a bit baggy on me.”

“I’ll look into it and let you know.”

“We’re ordering shirts now, are we?” Anne said as she took her spot between them, dropping her bag on the floor beside the chair.

Once again, Gil refused to rise to the bait, simply chuckling in response. “Yes,” he replied, eyes glittering with amusement. “I, filthy hypocrite that I am, am putting in an order to get my very own Will-o-Wisp t-shirt.”

“You know, when you openly admit to being a hypocrite, it ruins all the fun of calling you out on it,” Anne grumbled.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to ruin your fun,” Gilbert replied, teasing. “Here, how about this: I take it all back. Will-o-Wisp is a menace to Avonlea, and I see no logical contradiction whatsoever between saying that and being a member of her fan club.”

“Oh, stuff it,” Anne said, hearing Diana titter on her other side.

“Yes, ma’am,” Gil said, tossing her a two-fingered salute.

Despite it all, Anne didn’t have it in her to stay irritated as class began (though she sternly reminded herself as she felt the corners of her mouth creep upwards that she was _not_ going to smile at any of Gil’s attempts at humor). No, let Gilbert Blythe be as annoying as he liked; he was a minor concern at best in the face of happiness greater than any she’d ever known.

Everything was starting to go her way at last.

\- - -

The bus rattled slightly as it ground to a halt. “Here we are, then,” the driver, an older man, announced. “Last stop.”

The bus’s only passenger, a young woman, picked herself up from where she’d been lounging across one of the bus’s double seats and stalked forward to the front. “This is Avonlea, then?” she asked, peering out the window. Past a handful of nearby houses, one could just barely make out a stretch of Main Street, with a handful of tiny figures going back and forth about their business.

“Yes, ma’am,” the bus driver answered. “Fine little town it is.” He paused momentarily to regard his passenger, and though he was too polite to offer comment, it wasn’t hard to see why: she stuck out. Close-cropped dark hair, worn and slightly dirty street clothes, a camper’s backpack stuffed full of worldly possessions… she did not, in short, look like the sort of person one would expect to be seeking out a town like Avonlea.

“Don’t get many passengers out this way, do you?” the young woman asked, with a pointed glance down the length of the conspicuously empty bus.

“Well, not this time of day, no,” the bus driver agreed. “Most of the time it’s folks from Avonlea going to Charlottetown in the morning, then coming back in the evening. Not the other way round.” His brow furrowed. “You, uh, traveling alone, then, miss?”

A crooked smile crossed her face. “No need to worry about me,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”

“Well, sure, that is--just be careful, is all I’m saying. Not that this is exactly a rough sort of town, but…”

“Looking at it… I think it’s my kind of town,” she said airily.

The bus driver mumbled something that might have been polite agreement, and touched a hand to the bill of his cap. “Well, have a good day, then, miss.”

She nodded acknowledgement and stepped down off the bus, taking a few paces forward before stopping to regard the scene before her again, her smile larger than before, and toothy.

“My kind of town…” she repeated, murmuring to herself. “Small and helpless.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. My calendar informs me that it's only been four days since the last chapter, but it feels like it's been weeks, because like everybody else I've been stewing in self-isolation. And thanks to a couple of opportune writing frenzies, I've written ahead a whole chapter and a half (not counting this one) so... why not? I hope it provides you all as much relief and distraction as it's provided me.
> 
> As always, I'm on Tumblr at that-guy-writes if anybody wants to drop by and chat.


	6. Chapter 6

“Anne, please slow down,” Marilla said.

“Sorry, Marilla.” The apology came out as a half-giggle as Anne tugged at the bar of the shopping cart to keep it from flying off at the speed that she’d been traveling a moment ago. “I’m just so excited! I’ve never been asked along to go grocery shopping before.”

“Is that so?” Marilla replied, and out of the corner of her eye, Anne could see the older woman’s expression go momentarily unreadable. “Well. It’s a good thing to get acquainted with young, so you can look after yourself when you’re older. Just be careful with the cart, don’t go running it into anything.”

“Yes, Marilla!” Anne held herself to a reasonable pace as they walked side by side through the supermarket, though she couldn’t keep a slight bounce out of her step. “So what are we getting first?”

“Baking supplies,” Marilla replied, indicating an aisle ahead. They made a sharp turn into it together, Anne angling the cart to dodge another that was coming the other way. “I need flour… and I’m low enough on pancake mix that more wouldn’t go amiss, I think.”

Anne’s mouth watered slightly at the word  _ pancake. _ “We could get some more chocolate chips, while we’re at it?” she suggested innocently.

Marilla turned her head to give her a look. “I  _ said _ I don’t usually make them with the chocolate chips, Anne.”

“Well, until now,” Anne replied. “But it’s never too late to make a change, right, Marilla? Open yourself up to new experiences? Expand the breadth and scope of your life?”

Marilla looked at Anne.

Anne looked back at Marilla.

Finally, Marilla let out a sigh.  _ “One _ bag,” she said. “A  _ small _ bag. For an occasional treat.”

Anne grinned.

“They’re in the next aisle over,” Marilla said, tilting her head to indicate. “Go get one and come back. Quick like a bunny!”

Anne didn’t have to be told twice. Leaving Marilla and the cart behind, she took off at a jog, speeding to the end of the aisle and pulling a u-turn around into the one immediately next to it. “Chocolate chips, chocolate chips,” she said in a singsong under her breath. “Where are you…? Come to me…”

There--a pile of lumpy plastic bags lounging on the shelf ahead, their faces decorated with tantalizing artistic depictions of their contents. Anne darted up and retrieved a mid-sized one; sure, Marilla had said to get a small one, but it’s not like she’d be able to tell without the others there to compare, right? Clutching her prize, Anne turned to make her way back to the cart, and let out a shriek as a deafening sound echoed through the supermarket.

She was not alone in screaming; indeed, she was somewhat out of the ordinary for  _ stopping, _ as a wave of alarmed cries and yells washed over from the other end of the store. Anne’s stomach clenched, and she took off at a full run, heading for the source of the noise. She had no idea what was going on, but every last shred of instinct she had was telling her it was bad.

Even so, she wasn’t entirely prepared for the scene that came into view. Some people were fleeing, others had dived behind various objects for cover, and still others were simply frozen in shock and terror. The produce section had been thrown into hideous disarray; entire stands were knocked over, fruits and vegetables spilled across the floor. In the middle of it all stood a figure.

They were on the smaller side, somewhere around Anne’s size, swathed in a dark grey hooded sweatshirt that was just slightly too big for them. The hood was pulled up, and beneath it was a bone-white half-mask that covered the top half of their face, leaving the mouth and a surprisingly delicately formed chin exposed. A woman? Maybe a younger child? As Anne watched, they grabbed an apple from a stand that had managed to remain upright and bit into it carelessly, while stuffing another two into a battered knapsack.

There was little room for doubt--this was a cape, and not a good one at that. Surprise and confusion were brushed aside in the face of a single overriding certainty: this was officially Anne’s problem to deal with.

She slipped sideways, ducking into a nearby aisle out of sight of anybody who might’ve been looking in her direction. Then, taking a few deep breaths to try and quell the racing of her heart, she transformed, and teleported back out to the wrecked produce section.

_ “Stop right there,” _ she said in what she hoped was an authoritative tone, ignoring the startled gasps of the people around her as she materialized.

The cape did indeed stop what they were doing, and their head rolled insolently around to gaze at Anne, mouth widening into a toothy grin. “Well, well,” they said-- _ she _ said, as it was distinctly a woman’s voice. “I was wondering if you’d show up, but you made much better time than I’d thought. Out doing a spot of mid-week shopping, Princess?”

_ “That’s Will-o-Wisp,” _ Anne said, taking a step forward.  _ “And this stops now.” _

“Mm-hm,” the cape said, still grinning. “Sure thing, Princess.”

In the blink of an eye, she was in motion, her body vaulting through the air with impossible distance and grace, headed right for Anne. On reflex more than anything else, Anne stepped backwards, and the cape landed right in front of her.

The impact of the cape’s feet against the tile floor was like a bomb going off. Anne was lifted off her feet, her form rippling slightly as the shockwave passed through it. On pure instinct, she shifted into a shape like an oversized jack as she tumbled, keeping herself from falling flat on her back until she could regain her feet, snapping back into humanoid form. She blinked her eyes, trying to get a fix on her opponent, but the cape was already vaulting through the air again.

Another impact, another blast. Anne barely dove out of the way, and the shockwave knocked her off-balance as she tried to roll back up to her feet. She flailed as she went end over end, her limbs bending and flowing like a cartoon character’s. Finally, she got her arms and legs underneath her, pushing herself back upright--only to gasp as she came face to face with the cape, inches away from her.

“This your first cape fight?” The cape was smirking at her. “I honestly kind of feel bad. It’s like kicking a puppy.”

_ “Shut up!” _ Anne yelled. She balled one hand up into a fist and swung, bringing it hard into the side of the cape’s face. She felt the impact in her arm, a series of ripples traveling back up to her elbow in an equal and opposite reaction. Anne knew enough about physics to work out what was going on: her malleable form was reabsorbing the force from the blow. Of course. Of  _ course _ she would get the superpower that made her  _ bad at punching! _

The cape was knocked slightly sideways by the hit, but she easily caught herself and sprang backwards in a perfect backflip that carried her a full ten feet away from Anne. “Guess this puppy bites,” she said, gingerly putting a hand to her cheek. “Well, that makes me feel a bit better about this, then.”

Anne tried to think of something to do next, but in a flash the cape was leaping forward again, turning sideways to drive her feet into the ground. This time the blast rippled forward, and it was like getting hit by a cannonball. Anne flew backwards, bouncing twice off the floor before landing flat on her front. She’d barely begun to pick herself up when another blast hit her from the side, lifting her back into the air, quickly followed by another, then another, and another. The cape was doing a series of vaulting hops all around her, each one generating another shockwave. Anne was being juggled mercilessly, with barely any time to touch the ground between blasts before the next one hefted her up again.

Finally, in sheer, panicked desperation, she blinked out of existence, teleporting blindly. Cold, hard tile came up to meet her as she landed facedown, snapping back into human form almost the moment she’d materialized.

_ “Hope this means you’ve got the sense to call it quits!” _ the cape’s voice called from a distance.  _ “I’d love to stay and play some more, but I’ve got to grab my dinner and run before the cops show up.” _

Anne groaned blearily as she lifted her head from the floor and took stock of her surroundings; she’d reappeared in the frozen food aisle. Nobody had been around to see her transform from Will-o-Wisp back into Anne. Dumb luck there.

Fumbling with shaking hands, she felt at her body for damage--scrapes, bruises, broken bones. None was evident, in spite of the amount of punishment she’d just taken in her transformed state. That was some cold comfort at least. Likewise, her clothing seemed to be alright, aside from being rumpled from her final spill onto the floor. She wondered where it went when she transformed. It was an idle, pointless thought, but she clung to it, hiding behind it as a bulwark to avoid comprehending the full magnitude of how badly she’d just screwed up.

Something niggled at her awareness, and it took her a moment or two to realize that it was the sound of somebody calling her name nearby.  _ “Anne?! Anne!!” _

Marilla’s voice. “M-Marilla?” she called back, voice coming out hoarse.

“Anne!” Marilla appeared at the end of the aisle and approached at a fast stride. “Oh, sweet, merciful Lord in heaven--where have you  _ been, _ Anne?!”

“I-I’m sorry, Marilla, I--” Tears pricked at Anne’s eyes, threatening to spill. Wonderful, she’d managed to screw up both as Will-o-Wisp  _ and _ as Anne Shirley. “Everything just happened so fast and I didn’t know what was going on and I got so disoriented and I-I’m  _ sorry, _ Marilla, I’m so, so--” Her apology was cut off as Marilla reached her and wrapped her up in a hug.

“Oh, thank you,” Marilla whispered. “Oh merciful Lord, thank you,  _ thank you--” _

From where her face was buried in Marilla’s chest, Anne gave a confused sob.

“I was worried sick about you, I--” Marilla cut the statement off, stepping back to hold Anne out at arm’s length and look seriously into her face. “Are you all right, Anne?”

“I-I’m fine,” Anne sniffled. She looked down at her hands, which were empty. “...I don’t have the chocolate chips.” She couldn’t remember when she’d dropped them.

The tiniest of smiles crossed Marilla’s face. “It’s all right, Anne,” she said. “I daresay shopping’s going to have to wait at this point. Come on, I think it’s best if we both get home.” She put an arm around Anne’s shoulders.

Still sniffling, Anne let herself be led through the ruins of the supermarket and out the door to the parking lot.

- - -

By the time they’d pulled up to Green Gables and gotten out of the car, Matthew had already come out onto the porch. “People are saying all sorts of things about something happening at the supermarket,” he said. “Is it true? Are you all--?”

“There was a nasty bit of business, and unfortunately we got caught up in it,” Marilla affirmed. “But we’re both all right, so don’t you worry.”

“Anne?” Matthew asked, looking at her. Anne looked back at him but couldn’t find the words to reply.

“Still a bit in shock,” Marilla said, laying a hand on Anne’s back. “And I can hardly blame her for that. Come on, let’s get her inside.”

“Anything I can get that’d help, Anne?” Matthew asked as they crossed over the threshold and into the living room. “Water? Tea? Coffee?”

Anne simply shook her head and made a beeline for the stairs.

The door to her room slammed behind her, and she threw herself onto her bed, finally letting hot tears spill from her eyes. Stupid. Stupid, stupid,  _ stupid. _ How could she have believed, even for a moment, that she was at all cut out to be a cape? How could she lead the people of Avonlea on, let them think they could rely on her, only to fold like a wet napkin the moment anyone more threatening than an overconfident drunk showed up? They probably all hated her now, and they were right to do so. Stupid, useless girl, trying to play at being a hero.

Muffled noise filtered up from downstairs, the front door opening and closing, the sound of voices speaking. After a moment there were footsteps on the stairs.  _ “She’s still very upset!” _ Marilla’s voice called.  _ “Please be careful, Diana!” _

Diana. Anne’s innards tied themselves in knots. Oh god, she could  _ not _ face Diana right now.

The footsteps came all the way up the stairs and down the hallway, followed by a series of rapid, frantic knocks on the door.  _ “Anne?!” _ Diana’s voice came from the other side.  _ “Anne!!” _

Anne hugged a pillow to her body, curling herself in around it.  _ Go away, _ she thought.  _ Go find somebody who’s worthy of you. _

The knob turned, the door opened. “Anne!” Diana exclaimed, rushing into the room and falling to her knees at the side of the bed. “Oh, Anne, I’m sorry, but when I heard what happened I  _ had _ to come over and make sure you were okay--you are okay, aren’t you?  _ Please _ tell me you’re okay…”

Slowly, Anne pulled her gaze up to look her friend in the face. “I’m sorry, Diana,” she croaked. “I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry that you’re stuck with the world’s worst cape…”

“Anne, no!” Diana reached forward, clutching at Anne’s hand with both of hers. “Anne, please, if this is anybody’s fault, it’s mine. I didn’t think, I should’ve figured out some way to prepare you before we--”

“What?!” Anne sat bolt upright. “No, no--dear, sweet Diana,  _ please _ don’t take the burden of my failures on yourself--”

“We’re in this together, Anne,” Diana said, her eyes glistening. “In failure as well as in triumph.”

Anne could only gape at her friend before pulling her into a fierce embrace. “What would I do without you, Diana?” she whispered.

“Tell me what happened,” Diana replied. “Tell me everything. We’ll figure out what went wrong, and how we can set it right.”

So Anne did, from the initial encounter with the hooded figure, through the entire fight, and up to her final, last-ditch retreat. “So she was wearing a cheap, homemade costume,” Diana mused thoughtfully. “And she was stealing food from the supermarket… doesn’t sound like a villain with a lot of resources or grand designs. That’s something, at least. So her power was creating these shockwaves?”

“And jumping,” Anne said. “She could jump inhumanly well, and she created the shockwaves when she hit the ground.”

Diane grimaced. “A Mover-Shaker, then. Not the easiest combination to deal with.”

“A what?”

“Mover and Shaker… those are power classifications.” Diana frowned. “Have you not learned about those before?”

Anne shook her head.

“I forget that not everybody is as deep into the cape stuff as I am.” Diana sighed. “Okay, so… Shaker, that means a power that has an area of effect. In this case it’s those big shockwaves she lets off, but it can be all sorts of things. Telekinesis, spatial distortion… there’s one cape down in the States that projects an emotion-affecting aura around herself, that counts too. Anything that creates a zone of control for them, whatever it looks like. That make sense?”

Anne nodded slowly.

“So normally, the way you deal with a Shaker is staying out of their zone,” Diana continued. “But her jumping around like that, that’s a Mover power. Enhanced mobility; it means that she can bring the zone to you…” She trailed off thoughtfully. “But you can teleport. That’s a Mover power too.”

“Teleporting…” Anne buried her face in one hand. “I was so off-balance that I didn’t even think about it. I was trying to  _ jump _ out of the way, when I could’ve just… blinked.”

Diana laid a soft hand on her arm. “It’s hard to think of these things when you’re in the middle of a crisis, Anne.”

“But I need to be able to!” Anne flopped backwards, spreading her arms out to either side of her in an aggravated sprawl. “If I’m really, honestly going to be a hero, then I  _ need _ to be able to handle situations like that while keeping my wits about me. I need to be able to think of things like the fact that I apparently can’t  _ punch _ worth a damn before they actually become a problem…”

“Wait, you can’t punch?”

“I didn’t mention that?” Anne asked, lifting her head slightly. “Yeah, I tried punching her in the face and it just rippled back up my arm. It was like trying to club somebody with jello.”

Diana snorted. “Well, you’ve certainly got a way with similes...” Her expression grew thoughtful again. “Okay. So you can’t punch, fine. We’ll figure out how to fight to your strengths, then. What about a style that focuses more on grappling? You’d be really good at that, I’ll bet.”

Anne thought of the way she’d coiled around the tree branches in the woods when demonstrating her powers, the way she’d grabbed the drunkard by the ankles and sent him skidding across the pavement. “I think you’re onto something there,” she replied slowly. “For that matter… I bet I could hit pretty hard if I kind of…” She flicked one arm forward like the crack of a whip, making a  _ “wtcha!” _ sound with her mouth to accompany it.

“There you go!” Diana said, smiling. “You see, Anne? It’s not hopeless at all! We just need to think ahead, and figure out what’s going to work.”

Anne sighed and smiled back at her friend. “You’re right… of course you’re right. We can do this.  _ I _ can do this.”

- - -

As much as Diana’s encouragement bolstered her, Anne’s heart was heavy nonetheless as she trudged through the doors to school the next day. Will-o-Wisp had reliably been a daily topic of conversation among the students, and she was not looking forward to what people had to say about the previous day’s fiasco.

Her heart sank further as she walked into homeroom and saw the homeroom girls clustered together. Josie and Jane were holding a murmured conversation, while Tillie listened in and Diana looked like she was trying very hard not to. It was Ruby, however, who really got to Anne--she was hugging herself slightly, staring at the floor with an expression like she’d just seen her dog get run over. Anne swallowed. The poor girl must’ve been feeling so let down after seeing her hero fail so badly.

Josie looked up as Anne approached, nodding once at her--which was probably the closest she’d ever gotten to giving her a friendly gesture. “So,” she said as Anne settled into her usual seat. “Another cape in Avonlea, huh? You must be ecstatic, Diana.”

Diana’s lips tightened in the way they tended to when she was too polite to say  _ shut up. _

“I mean, I would’ve hoped that Will-o-Wisp would’ve put up a better fight, at least,” Josie pressed on. “Kind of boring if she just gets trounced right away, isn’t it? Hardly the most exciting cape fight.”

“Ugh, don’t even joke about it, Josie,” Jane said. “Having a villain in town, and our local hero’s that badly out of her depth? My mom’s freaking out, I don’t think she’s going to let me go out for  _ weeks.” _

Anne squirmed guiltily in her seat, and Diana shot her a distressed, sympathetic look.

“D-do you think she’s okay?!” Ruby blurted out suddenly.

Everybody turned to look at her. “What?” Josie said.

“I’m… sure she’s okay, Ruby,” Diana said.

“But what if she  _ isn’t?” _ Tears began to well up in Ruby’s eyes. “Wh-what if she got hurt really badly and she had to get taken to the hospital and she’s lying there in a coma  _ right now _ and they’re covering it up so that people don’t panic, or--or what if she’s  _ dead?!” _

“What?!” Josie said again.

“She’s  _ not _ dead, Ruby!” Diana said. Tentatively, she put a hand on the other girl’s shoulder, trying to calm her down.  _ “Nobody _ died in the attack--they would’ve found the body, they would’ve said something.”

“Ohhh,” Ruby wailed. “I couldn’t  _ bear _ it if she got hurt so badly trying to protect  _ me…” _

Anne was utterly floored. After all of that, after how badly she’d screwed up the confrontation with the villainous cape… Ruby was concerned for  _ her? _

That surprising twist put Anne in a reflective mood for the remainder of homeroom and into Spanish; thus it was that an idea occurred to her in the middle of Spanish, and she spent the remainder of  _ that _ class impatiently watching the clock as it ticked down the minutes until she could get to Social Studies and pick Diana’s brain.

At long last, the minute hand hit the ten-til mark, and the bell rang. Anne was up and out of her seat before it had finished, throwing her notebooks into her bag and rushing out the door and down the hall to the Social Studies classroom.

“Do you know where I can learn martial arts?” she asked without preamble, plopping down in her seat next to Diana.

Diana blinked at her, slightly startled. “Are you joking?” she replied. “My parents would lose their minds if I started learning that sort of thing. Besides…” She glanced around cautiously. “Besides, I thought we’d established that normal fighting styles don’t… suit you particularly well.”

“It’s not about learning technique,” Anne said. “It’s about  _ mindset. _ Like I said before, I need to be able to think on my feet and handle tense situations without panicking. I think I’d be able to learn that kind of focus from martial arts.”

“You want to learn martial arts?” an irksomely familiar voice asked from her other side.

Anne heaved an aggravated sigh and turned to face Gil, who’d apparently sat down in his usual spot next to her while she wasn’t looking.  _ “Yes, _ Gil, I do. That’s what  _ Diana and I _ are talking about.”

“Huh, interesting,” he said, either not noticing or ignoring her emphasis on who the conversation included (and thus, by implication, who it  _ didn’t _ include). “I wouldn’t necessarily have figured you for the type… what’s got you interested?”

Anne spluttered, lost for an answer. Diana dove in to save her. “Anne was--at the supermarket yesterday afternoon,” she said quickly.

Gil’s eyes widened. “You were in the middle of  _ that?! _ Are you okay?”

“No,” Anne snarked back. “I died. You’re talking to my ghost.”

Normally, Gil was good for a laugh or at least a smile in response to Anne’s jabs--one of his more irritating features, in her opinion. None was forthcoming right now, though. “I’m serious, Anne,” he said, looking at her with an intensity that made her insides quiver just a little bit. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, blurting it out just a bit too fast. “It just… makes me want to learn how to take care of myself better, that’s all.”

Gil’s lips pursed slightly. “You know that regular martial arts aren’t going to be much help against a cape--”

“Yes,  _ thank you _ for pointing that out,” Anne snapped. “Look, I don’t care if you don’t approve,  _ Gilbert--” _

“Whoa, whoa, I never said I don’t approve,” Gil said, lifting both hands in a placating gesture. “As a matter of fact, if you’re serious about this, I think I can help you out. Bash knows a lot about that sort of stuff; he’d probably be willing to give you a few pointers.”

“Bash?” Anne asked. The name was familiar, but it took a moment for her memory to click--the man who had been with Gilbert the day of her first public appearance, the one who’d taken a picture together with them.

“Yeah, he’s my--” Gilbert stopped, apparently searching for the right word. “He lives with me,” he finished. “Him and his wife. I can talk to him tonight, ask him if he’d be okay with you stopping by sometime, and let you know on Monday?”

“Why don’t you exchange numbers?” Diana suggested. “It’ll be easier to arrange it that way.”

“I mean…” Gil looked from Diana back to Anne, eyebrows raised, clearly soliciting her opinion on the matter.

Anne’s instinctive response was to reject the idea out of hand; a very loud part of her brain was insisting that giving Gil her number would only give him exponentially more opportunities to irritate her. Her more pragmatic side, however, recognized that Diana was right. Being able to arrange matters through text would be more efficient than having to wait through the entire weekend--longer if Gil were to be sick on Monday, or if he, say, got hit by a car or something. (She could dream, couldn’t she?)

“Fine,” she huffed, pulling her phone out.

- - -

“Two capes, now,” Rachel Lynde was saying from her seat at the dining room table. “Two! Decades we’ve gone with nary a one, and now suddenly we’ve got two in the space of less than a month. It’s enough to make you swear they must be breeding.”

“Mm.” Marilla made a noncommittal noise, her attention focused on the contents of her pantry. With last night’s shopping left undone and the supermarket closed for repairs for at least the next few days, her meal plans for the weekend had been thrown into disarray. Matthew had volunteered himself to drive into the next town over and pick up what he could, but she’d still have to make certain adjustments…

“And of course, that so-called ‘local hero’ was no help at all,” Rachel went on. “Hero my foot. Went down like one of those glass bottles they shoot at the county fair. Completely useless.”

“Bless her for trying, though,” Marilla said absently.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rachel straighten up in her seat. “What was that?”

Marilla closed her eyes and let out a sigh too soft to hear from the other room. She really should’ve known better. Without thinking, she’d contradicted Rachel, which meant that this conversation had just turned into a debate. “I just said that it’s nice that she tried to help, that’s all. Even if she… didn’t quite manage it.”

“Well,” said Rachel. “Well well well. Are my ears deceiving me? Is Marilla Cuthbert abandoning her lifelong stance against capes?”

“I’m not ‘abandoning’ anything, Rachel,” Marilla replied with deliberate patience. “I just think it’s right that we recognize when--”

“Oh, no, no, don’t hold back on my account. By all means, join Willow-whatsit’s fanclub, if that’s the way the spirit moves you. You could run around with young Diana Barry, snapping those selfie-pictures like she did the day she appeared downtown.”

Marilla’s brow furrowed into a puzzled frown. “She was downtown that day?” she asked. “But I thought…”

“Of course she was, where else would she be? Appointed herself Willow-whatsit’s official photographer, by all accounts.” Rachel’s head cocked slightly to the side. “You thought what, Marilla?”

Marilla shook her head. “No… never mind. I must be mistaken.” But she knew she wasn’t. She could remember distinctly now: Anne had said that she and Diana had been out in the woods the afternoon that Will-o-Wisp had appeared downtown. Apparently that hadn’t been true; if Diana had been downtown, had Anne been there as well?

More connections began to trace themselves in her head, unbidden. Anne disappearing shortly before Will-o-Wisp had appeared in the supermarket, reappearing shortly after she’d retreated. Marilla had been so caught up in the stark terror of losing the girl, and the relief of finding her again, that she hadn’t stopped to consider the timing.  _ Nonsense, _ she said to herself.  _ Impossible. It’s a coincidence. _ Even as she thought that, another thought appeared underneath it. The night that Will-o-Wisp had first appeared--hadn’t that been the night Anne had fled out her window? She’d been gone for over an hour before returning…

Marilla tried to picture it in her head. The girl she’d slowly come to know over the last couple of weeks, passionate, more than a little fiesty, and with a capacity for loving that was fairly astonishing--Marilla imagined her jumping in to stop a crime in progress, to defend the lives of innocent bystanders, and found that she could see it all too well.

“Marilla?” Rachel asked. “You’ve gone quiet. Is something the matter?”

“No,” Marilla replied. “Just… thinking. Everything’s fine.” But suddenly, she found she wasn’t quite so sure of that.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And at last, we come to the action... or about thirty seconds of it, as Anne gets thoroughly curbstomped in her first real cape fight. She's trying her best.


	7. Chapter 7

Anne swallowed down her nervousness as she rapped intently on the door before her and settled back onto her heels to wait. She was here on a quest of importance,  _ damn it, _ one that was critical to her development as a hero. She was going to comport herself with dignity.

After a few moments, the door flew open, making her start slightly; behind it was a man, the same one who had been out with Gilbert that day downtown--Bash. “Well hello,” he said with his same Caribbean accent as before, grinning widely at her. “You’d be Anne Shirley, then?”

“Y-yes, that’s me,” she replied, bobbing her head in greeting. “Bash, right? I suppose you were told to expect me.”

“Oh yes,” he said, grin widening even further. “Along with a great many other things.”

Anne frowned as she stepped inside the house. What did he mean by that? Had Gil been talking about her at home, behind her back? What sorts of nasty things had he been saying? She was going to have to have  _ words _ with him about it, when she got the chance.

Speak of the devil. “Anne, hey,” Gil said, taking a step into the entryway. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Anne snorted. “Somehow, I have trouble believing that  _ anything _ about you could be humble,” she said as she shucked her coat.

“Ooo,” Bash crowed, taking the coat from her and hanging it up on a coat rack that stood near the door. “You sure you want me to teach her, Blythe? Seems to me like she’s already plenty good at knocking your block off with her tongue alone.”

_ “She _ wants you to teach her,” Gil countered, though his expression was amused. “I’m just… facilitating.”

“Your funeral, Blythe.” Bash waved Anne further into the house. “Come on then, Miss Anne. We’ll be out in the backyard. We can work ourselves to exhaustion, and then restore ourselves with a nice, hearty dinner.”

_ Dinner? _ “Oh, no, you don’t have to feed me--”

“Anne,” Gil said softly but firmly. “You’re our guest tonight. I wouldn’t want Marilla saying we hadn’t treated her foster daughter right.”

“Besides,” Bash added, “Mary’s going to be cooking up one of my personal recipes. I can guarantee you, you won’t get food like it anywhere else in Avonlea. Probably not even anywhere else on the island.”

Anne’s mouth began watering of its own accord. “Well, when you put it that way…” she said. “How could I turn down such a tantalizing offer?”

“So this is the girl you’re aiming to turn into a delinquent, Bash?” A head had poked out from around the corner, a woman with brown skin a shade lighter than Bash’s, and a head full of dark, curly hair. Mary, presumably, appearing as though she’d been conjured up by the mention of her name. 

“She came to me, Mary love,” Bash replied, stepping over to place a kiss on her cheek. “The way I hear it, she’s more than capable of getting into trouble of her own accord.”

Anne glared at Gil, who had the decency to look appropriately chagrined.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Means she won’t put up with your nonsense, at least.” Mary stepped fully into view, and Anne gasped slightly as she saw that she had a baby in her arms. “This would be baby Dellie,” Mary said, smiling slightly at Anne’s reaction.

“Oh, hello Dellie,” Anne cooed, stepping forward.

Dellie gurgled in response, gracing Anne with a wide baby grin.

“Oh, she likes you!” Bash exclaimed. “Well, that’s a character reference if ever I saw one.”

“You all can get to know each other better over dinner, then,” Mary said. “For now… corrupt away, Bash.”

“Right,” Bash said as she departed. “Now then, Miss Anne, one thing I want to make clear before we begin: if you’re looking to learn some kind of fancy kung fu techniques, you’re not going to learn them for me. I don’t go in for that kind of thing. The kind of fighting I know, it’s all about how to knock someone on their ass, and if necessary make sure they  _ stay _ on their ass.”

“That suits me just fine,” Anne said.

“Yes, that… does seem like it would be her speed,” Gil agreed. His hand, almost involuntarily, went up to touch the side of his head, and Anne couldn’t help smirking.

“Then we’re agreed,” Bash said. “Come on!” He led Anne out the back door, and into the backyard.

“Brrr,” Anne muttered, shivering slightly. She found herself wishing that she hadn’t left her coat inside.

“Don’t worry, we’ll warm you right up,” Bash said. “By the end of this you’ll be thankful it’s chilly out. Now follow my lead.” He led her through a series of stretches, limbering up their bodies part by part, finishing up by jogging in place. Anne could still feel the cold on her skin, but it was definitely less biting than it had been.

“Good,” Bash said. “Now, let’s see…” He examined the ground intently, and retrieved a stout stick about fifty centimeters in length, tossing it to Anne. “Here, take this.”

“What for?” Anne asked as she caught it.

“Everything,” he replied. “It’s your new best friend.”

“A stick?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Yes, a stick. You know what you can find just about anywhere you look? A stick, or a stick-like object. You want to learn to fight with a knife and get the snot kicked out of you because you forgot it at home? You learn to fight with a stick, you’re set no matter where somebody decides to jump you.”

“What if I get in a fight in the desert?” Anne asked.

“Hold the stick up, smartass girl. Horizontal, like so.” She did so, mimicking the position of his hands. He stepped forward and put his hands against the stick, opposite of hers. “Okay. Drop your thumbs, let the pressure between our hands hold the stick up. There you go. Now, I’m going to start stepping, backwards, forwards, sideways--any way I feel like. Wherever I go, you follow me. Follow too slow, and you’ll let the stick drop. You understand?”

“I mean, I guess I do…” Anne frowned. “What exactly is this supposed to be teaching me?”

“Footwork,” Bash replied. “Maintaining the range you want, relative to your opponent. It’s what determines the course of the fight before anybody even throws a punch. Control the range and you control the fight. That make sense?”

Anne thought of the cape from the supermarket, leaping forward to attack, flipping back out of her reach. “Yes,” she said. “It does.”

They set about it. The drill wound up being a fair bit more difficult than Anne expected, not least because the moment she began to get the hang of it, Bash started going out of his way to trip her up and throw her off. Gradually, though, she got a better and better sense of the point he was trying to drive home. It was a particular mindset, a holistic combination of her visual perception of the other participant and her kinesthetic awareness of the space around her. And the whole time, a part of her mind was busy contemplating how it might translate once superpowers were thrown into the mix.

_ She can jump, I can teleport, _ she thought to herself.  _ Same principle, different execution. I’m still trying to control the range, just… a lot more of it. _

Finally, after an indefinite amount of time, Bash called a halt. “Good!” he said. “You catch on quick, Anne. You’ve got a lot of focus for your age.”

“I always have,” Anne replied, smiling shyly at the compliment. “Although, til now, it’s mostly been when I was reading, or writing. So what’s next?”

Bash began walking her through basic strikes, giving her pointers on how to plant her feet, how to position her arms, how to move from her core to make use of her body’s most powerful muscles. This was less directly relevant to Anne--she had  _ no _ idea how concepts like musculature applied to her transformed state--but she persisted nonetheless.  _ The mindset, _ she told herself.  _ The mindset is the important thing. _

Eventually the sun began to dip behind the horizon, and the chill in the air sharpened to the point that even the heat of their exertions couldn’t keep it at bay. “That’s good for today,” Bash said, wiping at his brow. “You’ll be sore tomorrow, I can promise you that. But if you’re serious about this stuff, then keeping a regular training schedule is the most crucial thing--a couple of times a week, every week, bare minimum. You need to drill it into your body until you can do it without thinking--that’s when it’ll actually be useful when you get into a fight.”

Anne blew a stray strand of hair out of her face. “Well, if it’s not too much trouble for me to come back…”

“With such an enthusiastic student? I’d be happy to have you.” Bash grinned. “And I know that Gil won’t complain about having you over regularly, either.”

What did he mean by that? Anne frowned, but didn’t follow up.

“So, is this why everybody calls you ‘Bash’, then?” she asked as they stepped back into the house. “Because you know so much about fighting and martial arts?”

He blinked rapidly at her for a few moments. “Yes,” he said finally. “Yes, you’ve got it there. That is  _ exactly _ why everybody calls me ‘Bash’.”

“He’s lying,” Gil said, looking up from where he was sitting on the couch with Dellie on his knee. “It’s short for Sebastian.”

“Right, well, thanks for that,” Bash grumbled. “You know, maybe you shouldn’t be going around talking about people’s embarrassing full names,  _ Gilbert.” _

Gil laughed, and Anne realized that this was why he’d always been able to take her verbal jabs in stride: endless practice at home. Any chance to contemplate this realization, however, was stolen away by her nose helpfully informing her that some of the most deliciously tantalizing smells she’d ever experienced were currently wafting through the house.

“Oh my,” she sighed, taking a deep sniff. “If you tell me that that’s coming from dinner, I think I might just die and go to heaven.”

Bash and Gil paused their bickering to look at her. “Well, seeing as Marilla would be incredibly upset with me if you died on my watch,” Gil replied, “no, that’s not coming from dinner.”

Anne glared at him. “Oh, shut up.”

- - -

Dinner preparations wrapped up swiftly. Dellie was passed off to Bash, who cooed over her as Gil set the table, with Mary periodically appearing from the kitchen to hand him things to set out. Every bit of Anne’s instinct prodded her to jump in and help, but every time she tried, Gil waved her off.

“You’re our guest,” he kept saying, as though that explained everything. Had she  _ ever _ been anybody’s guest before? Anne found that she couldn’t recall.

“Hold up, you’ve only set four places.” Bash was frowning at the table--there were in fact only four places set, plus Dellie’s high chair. “Is Mr. Blythe not joining us?”

“He’s sleeping right now,” Mary replied as she handed off something else to Gil. “Given that he was in particularly rough shape today, I thought it best to let him get the rest. I’m packing away his portion of dinner so he can have it when he wants it.”

Anne frowned at that, particularly seeing the expression that flickered across Gil’s face in response, but she didn’t give voice to the obvious question.

Dinner wound up being some sort of rice-and-meat dish that Bash called “pelau”. Anne eagerly scooped a spoonful into her mouth and was instantly overcome as the flavor danced over her tongue; she let out a long groan of contentment, leaning back in her chair as she chewed slowly to savor the experience as long as she possibly could.

“Better call up Miss Marilla to apologize, Gil,” Bash said, grinning across the table at her. “I think our Miss Anne’s gone and made good on her promise.”

Anne swallowed down the bite with some reluctance. “This is  _ heavenly,” _ she declared. “How on earth did you do it?”

“Well, of course we’ve got Mary’s touch to thank,” Bash said, glancing over at his wife. “She took to Trinidadian cuisine like a fish to water.”

“I had to,” Mary replied wryly, looking back at him. “It was the only way you’d stop comparing my cooking to your mother’s.”

Bash laughed and caught her hand in his, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “Anyway, if you’re looking for a secret recipe,” he continued, “the secret is knowing that seasonings other than salt exist. I’ll be honest, I don’t know how all you white people get by, eating that bland food all the time.”

“Ignorance, mainly,” Gil said, polishing off a bite of his own. “You and Mary have completely spoiled me, Bash. I don’t think I can ever go back.”

“Well, you’re going to have a rough time of it when you move out for university, then,” Bash teased.

“Don’t remind me,” Gil sighed, taking another bite.

Anne glanced tentatively around the table. “I, um… well, I’m sorry if it’s rude of me to ask this, but… how exactly did all of you wind up living together, anyway?”

Gil shook his head. “No, no need to apologize, Anne. Honestly, I was beginning to wonder when you were going to get around to asking.” He set his spoon down, and looked at Bash and Mary in turn before turning himself to fully face Anne. “Where to begin… well, I think you might have picked up that my father’s… not doing very well.”

Anne nodded; of course, she’d gathered as much from what Mary had said earlier.

“Well, my mom’s been… gone, since I was a little kid, and it’s just been the two of us. So when he got bad enough that he couldn’t look after himself…” Gil nodded in Mary’s direction. “I hired Mary on, to look after him during the day when I had to be at school.”

“You’re a live-in caregiver, then?” Anne asked Mary.

Mary shook her head. “Not at first,” she replied. “Like Gil said, I was just coming by during the day. Bash and I had an apartment together, but…”

“...but I lost my job,” Bash finished. “Laid off. And without both incomes, we couldn’t afford the apartment. This was right around the time we found out we were expecting Dellie, too, so the timing was about as awful as it could’ve been.”

“I went to John--that’s Gil’s father--and explained the situation to him,” Mary said. “I’d only meant to let him know that I might not be as reliable as I had been up til that point… so imagine my surprise when he and Gil invited us to move in with them, instead.”

“Well, we had the space,” Gil said. “This was built to be a family house, and with just the two of us, there were entire rooms we weren’t using… so we just, you know, gave one of them to Bash and Mary to stay in.”

“Oh, yes, Saint Gilbert.” Bash’s grin was teasing but also clearly affectionate. “Taking mercy on those who’re down on their luck, and giving them shelter from the storm.”

“Hey, come on.” Gil had reddened slightly. “Anyway, you’re back on your feet now, and paying us rent fair and square.”

“Which I had to spend a week talking you into, as I recall.” Bash shook his head. “And don’t think you can pull the wool over my eyes, Blythe. I know what the market value for rent is around these parts.”

Gil shrugged. “Okay, yeah, we’re giving you the family discount. So sue me.”

“Family…” Anne said quietly. She hadn’t intended it for anybody other than herself, but Gil heard anyway.

“Yeah, family,” he said. “I know it’s… a little strange, compared to what most people think of. But it’s true. Bash and Mary, and Dellie… they’re part of my family now.”

“It’s not strange at all,” Anne said, shaking her head vigorously. “Not to me. I mean, I can certainly understand taking a sense of family where you find it--I’ve never had a family myself, not until…”

“...Matthew and Marilla?” Gil finished for her. “So you’d say they’re family to you, then?”

Anne bit her lip, looking intently down at her plate. “It… feels a little odd to say that, when it’s only been a few weeks,” she admitted. “But… it feels more possible with them than it has anywhere else I’ve been before.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Mary was smiling kindly at her. “It’s so important to have people in your life who can be your refuge.”

“And I hope this means you’ll be staying in Avonlea for the foreseeable future?” Bash asked. “Because you’re good company, Miss Anne, and I sure wouldn’t mind having you darken our doorstep in the future.” He raised his eyebrows across the table at Gil. “Isn’t that right, Blythe?” he asked, tone overly, deliberately significant.

Gil shot him a look that very clearly said  _ shut up, _ but he grabbed his glass and lifted it into the air before him. “Hear, hear!” he said, his eyes dancing as he looked sideways and smiled at Anne.

Anne felt a flush rising in her cheeks up to the tips of her ears, and she quickly stuffed another bite into her mouth.

- - -

Back in the entryway, Anne wrapped herself up in her coat, her belly full of food and her heart full of cheer. “Thank you for having me over,” she said. “And for the lesson and everything. I--” She stopped as she turned to see Gil donning his coat as well.

“My pleasure,” he said. “Hope you got what you were looking for out of it.”

“Yeah. Um.” She blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

“Huh? Oh… I figured I’d be walking you home.”

She took a half-step back away from him. “That’s… really not necessary,” she said, the words coming off of her tongue in a stumbling rush. “I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine.”

“Trying to stop young Blythe from being chivalrous?” Bash commented from the hallway. “Might as well try to stop the sun from rising.”

“I mean, I don’t have to. I’m sure you’d be fine.” Gil was smiling at her again, but there was something oddly hesitant about it. “But it  _ would  _ make me feel a lot better to know for sure that you’d gotten home okay. And I have the feeling that Marilla would want me to, anyway.”

He did have a point there. “Well… okay, fine,” Anne relented. “Bash, thank you. Is the same time next week good for you?”

“Works fine.” Bash waggled his fingers in a casual wave farewell. “You take care, Miss Anne.”

The cold cracked Anne in the face as she stepped out onto the front step of Gil’s house; the sun had fully set, with only periodic streetlights illuminating the darkness. “You’re sure this isn’t an inconvenience for you?” she asked Gil, who had stepped out behind her and was now closing the door behind him.

“Not at all. It’ll be nice to get a bit of a walk in. Bracing.” He laughed a little to himself as they fell into step next to each other. “I mean, you’re not planning on smacking me over the head again, are you?”

Bastard. Anne’s jaw clenched, her hands curled into fists. “I don’t know,” she replied coldly. “Are you planning to pull my hair and call me names again?”

She looked sideways at him, to judge whether her words had hit their mark, and to her surprise found that they had far more so than she’d dared hope: the smile had dropped completely off of Gil’s face, leaving his expression stricken. “Shit,” he muttered; Anne was almost certain it was the first time she’d ever heard him swear. “Anne, look, I--I’ve kind of gotten the sense, ever since the--that incident, that you’ve wanted space from me, and I’ve been trying to give that to you. But that also means I haven’t had a chance to say… well, to say that I’m sorry. And I  _ am _ sorry, Anne, I’m just really, really sorry. I--” He let out a frustrated huff of breath. “Everything I think of to say just comes out sounding like an excuse. There’s no excuse. I was way out of line, and I… well, I’m sorry.”

Anne was thoroughly taken aback. She’d given out plenty of babbling apologies in her time--she had next to no experience being on the receiving end of one. “It’s fine,” she said, the platitude coming out of her mouth quickly and automatically.

Gil sighed. “No, Anne, it isn’t,” he said. “You’ve clearly been upset about it since the day it happened, and I… well, if it helps any, I’ve regretted it just about every day since then.” He chuckled ruefully. “Admittedly, some of that is a little bit… selfish on my part.”

“Selfish?”

“Well, yeah.” Gil’s hands were already resting in his pockets, but he jammed them in even harder, working them as though he’d be able to discover more space in his pockets by doing so. “I… well, I can’t help thinking that maybe… if I hadn’t done it… you’d actually want to get to know me, as much as I want to get to know you.”

Okay, scratch that earlier one-- _ now _ Anne was thoroughly taken aback. “You want to get to know me?” she repeated, disbelieving.

“Well, yeah.” For the first time since their conversation had started, Gil looked directly at her, his brows knitting together in soft puzzlement. “Is that so strange?”

“Why?” The question blurted out of Anne’s mouth before she could hold it back.

_ “Why?” _ Gil’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well, because you’re smart, you’re passionate, you’ve got a razor-sharp wit, you’re really… you’re just an interesting person to be around, Anne.”

Anne could only pray that the darkness was concealing the fact that she was rapidly turning bright red. “You made fun of my hair,” she mumbled, only partially coherent.

“Your hair?” Gil blinked. “You mean… the ‘Carrots’ thing? Anne, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you were sensitive about it… I-I  _ like _ your hair.”

If Anne blushed any harder, she was going to spontaneously combust. She had to think of a different direction to steer the conversation in, and fast. “Your dad,” she blurted out. “Is he--?” She cut herself off, facepalming mentally. Yes,  _ perfect _ choice there, Anne. Way to go. Sure enough, a timid look showed that Gil’s expression had gone stony. “I-I’m sorry,” she said, softer. “We don’t have to talk about--”

“No, it’s fine.” Gil let out a heavy sigh. “His condition, it’s… we don’t know whether or not it’s terminal, but it is chronic. He’s going to be living with it the rest of his life… however long that ends up being.”

“I’m sorry,” Anne said again. What else was there to say?

Gil just shrugged. “It’s all right. I’m obviously not  _ happy _ about it or anything, but… I’ve had a long time to make my peace with it. And whatever happens, I know I’ll have Bash and Mary. That helps a lot.” His gaze was faraway, contemplative. “And it’s the reason I decided I want to become a doctor.”

Anne’s eyes grew wide. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’ve spent  _ so _ much time working with doctors, the last couple of years. It’s made me realize just how much difference having the right doctor makes.” He looked sideways at Anne, one corner of his mouth pulling up into a slight, lopsided grin. “I figure I can do a lot of good in the world, being the right doctor for people who need it.”

“That’s… wow.” Anne cast her gaze down at the ground. “I’ve barely thought about what I want to be. I’m still getting used to being anything more than just a bother.”

“What?”

Anne looked up and realized that she could see the lights on in Green Gables, just a couple more blocks down the road. It should’ve been a relief, but… to her surprise, she found that she didn’t want this conversation to end. “It’s just that everywhere I go, everywhere they tried to fit me, I wound up being in the way,” she explained. “I tried to make myself useful, and mostly failed. So they’d get tired of me, and they’d kick me out, and then it’d start all over again. That was just life, up until… here.”

They walked in silence for a few moments, Gil absorbing what she’d said. “That’s  _ horrible,” _ he said at last.

She shrugged. “It’s like you said. I’ve had a long time to make peace with the fact that I’m kind of useless.”

Gil pursed his lips, contemplating his words carefully. “There’s some things,” he said slowly, “that aren’t worth making peace with. There’s some things you should never let yourself believe about yourself.” He turned to look at her. “Anne--”

There was something overwhelming in his eyes that made her look away, and he didn’t finish the thought. Quietly, they continued to walk until they had reached Green Gables’ front yard. “Well, I guess this is you,” Gil said.

“It is,” Anne agreed. “Gil… thank you for hosting me tonight. And for walking me back after. It was… a lot more pleasant than I was expecting.”

“You know what, I’ll take it.” He looked at her again, the same look in his eye, dimmer and less overwhelming but still distinctly present. “Anne… okay, look, maybe this is weird coming from me, but if you ever need to talk about anything, or…? I’m told I’m a pretty good listener.”

Anne swallowed, looking back at him. He wasn’t  _ wrong _ about that, based on their talk tonight…

“Sorry if that’s too forward,” Gilbert added quickly. “You just seem like you have a lot on your mind lately. Especially since Friday.”

And he  _ definitely _ wasn’t wrong about that. “It’s just, you know,” Anne began, mentally scrambling to assemble an answer that was both reasonably honest and safe. “The… thing that happened at the supermarket. That cape who showed up.”

“Yeah, of course.” Gil nodded slowly. “Well, I don’t think there’s need to worry too much there. Will-o-Wisp will handle her.”

Anne couldn’t help goggling openly at him. “But--their fight--she--”

“Nobody wins all the time, right?” Gil shrugged. “I have a feeling it’s going to go differently next time. Can’t say exactly why. Call it faith, I guess.”

_ Faith. _ The word worked its way into Anne’s body and lodged itself in her chest, radiating a soft warmth. Gil had faith in her. Well, okay, he had faith in Will-o-Wisp--but, no, he’d made it clear that he had faith in Anne Shirley too. God only knew why, but he did. “Well, I should--” she said, gesturing vaguely towards the house. “Before Marilla starts wondering what we’re up to.”

“Right, of course. No impropriety.” Gil grinned at her. “Goodnight, Anne. See you at school.”

Anne lingered on the step a moment, watching his shrinking form disappear down the length of the dark street. She had no idea what had just happened, but she was pretty sure that she didn’t hate Gilbert Blythe anymore.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. With that, I've burned through my backlog of completed chapters for this fic; I'll be updating in real time from here on out. The next chapter's half written already, so I don't imagine it'll be *too* long.
> 
> Hope everybody's doing well, and that quarantine hasn't gotten you down too much!


	8. Chapter 8

Ms. Stacey was, by any measure that mattered, an excellent teacher, and ordinarily Anne paid rapt attention in her science classes, hanging on to her every word as she unveiled the inner workings of the world around them to her students. Today, though, Anne found herself utterly unable to focus. Ms. Stacey’s words faded into background noise as Anne’s eyes were drawn to a poster plastered over one wall of the classroom.

The poster in question prominently featured a brown-skinned woman dressed up in armor that was styled with the sleek, minimalist aesthetic which served as an automatic byword for high-tech, a translucent blue visor hiding her eyes. She was a cape, another member of the Halifax Protectorate, and her power had something to do with enhanced aptitude for technological design--a Tinker, Anne reminded herself, recalling Diana’s lectures on power classifications. In one hand she held some complicated device of unknown function; the other hand was pointing straight at the poster’s viewer.  _ YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES, _ bold text beneath her read.

Anne couldn’t help but wince a little.  _ That _ was a complicated sentiment for her, at the moment.

“Anne?” a voice murmured next to her. Guiltily, Anne turned her attention away from the poster to meet the large blue eyes of Ruby Gillis. “You’re spacing out again,” Ruby said quietly. “Ms. Stacey’s explaining the lab for today.”

And given that the two of them were lab partners, it was going to be Ruby’s problem if Anne didn’t know what to do. Her tone was concerned, not chiding, but still… “Sorry,” Anne whispered back.

Ruby didn’t acknowledge the apology; instead, her gaze went across the classroom to the poster Anne had been staring at. “Are you a fan of Dynamo, then?” she asked.

Dynamo--that was her name. “I don’t know,” Anne replied truthfully. “I don’t know very much about her.”

Ruby’s smile lit up her entire face. “Oh, she’s  _ brilliant,” _ she said. “She’s the Halifax Protectorate’s tech expert, and she’s at the center of all these initiatives to get women and minorities involved in the sciences… that’s where the poster comes from,” she added, indicating it with a nod. “Anytime I feel discouraged about how I’m doing in school, I just tell myself that the smartest member of the Protectorate believes in me.”

Anne couldn’t stop her lips from twisting into a small smile of her own. “You’re beginning to sound like Diana.”

Ruby flushed slightly, but she didn’t look displeased. “I maintain that Diana’s obsessed,” she replied. “But she’s not wrong, you know. About the way that heroes can inspire us, I mean.”

Inspiration… The smile fell off of Anne’s face. She could hardly see how her performance during the supermarket incident could inspire  _ anybody. _

She felt something touch her shoulder; softly, tentatively, Ruby had laid a hand on her. “Are you still thinking about what happened last week?” she asked.

Anne simply nodded. The general knowledge that she’d been there in her civilian persona had proven surprisingly useful--she could honestly tell people that it was weighing on her mind without needing to elaborate  _ why. _

Ruby’s hand squeezed her shoulder softly. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “Will-o-Wisp will figure out a way to deal with that villain. I just  _ know _ she will.”

Anne could barely hide her astonishment. This was the second person in the last few days who had expressed such faith in her--in  _ Will-o-Wisp, _ not knowing that they were speaking to her at that very moment. Whatever had she done to deserve people believing in her like this?

Maybe it wasn’t about what she’d already done. Maybe it was about what she  _ could _ do--what she  _ had _ to do.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Anne threw a glance at Ms. Stacey, who was wrapping up her explanation of today’s lab--well, she was going to be flying by the seat of her pants today, that was unavoidable at this point. Surreptitiously, she slipped her phone out and checked it underneath the table. She’d received a text from Diana.

_ Found some information about our friend. Meet after school today? _

‘Our friend’ was, of course, the villain from the supermarket. Anne glanced again at Ms. Stacey to make sure she wasn’t looking before hastily composing a reply.

_ yes. usual spot in the woods. _

- - -

Anne lashed out one arm in the form of a tendril, striking with a whipping motion. The tendril hit the stump of wood she’d set up as a target, knocking it into the air. Without waiting for it to fall, Anne teleported, blinking to the other side of the clearing, and lashed out again, catching the stump in midair and knocking it upwards again. Again, she teleported without waiting for it to fall. There was a rhythm to the whole thing, and she let her mind sink into it, obeying it as though she were dancing to music rather than taking the time to think about what she was doing.

Blink. Strike. Blink. Strike. Blink. Strike. Blink. Strike.

It was an exercise she’d come up with on her own, inspired (ironically enough) by what the cape from the supermarket had done to  _ her: _ knock the opponent off-balance, and then hit them with a flurry of attacks too fast and furious for them to recover. 

The stump hit the ground with a dull clatter.

“Incredible,” Diana’s voice said from the edge of the clearing.

Anne let out a breath, relaxing back into human form. “I’ve been practicing,” she said. And she had--it had only been a couple of days since training with Bash, but like he’d recommended, she’d made time each day to practice what he’d taught her, as well as exercises like this one that she’d invented to suit her powerset. It could be a bit dull and repetitive, but already she could feel things clicking into place, flowing naturally where she’d struggled with them on the outset.

Diana nodded. “And how long did you hold your transformation that time?”

Anne shrugged. “A few minutes? I wasn’t really keeping track.” That was the other thing--her powers had responded to the training more than it had to anything else she’d tried in the year or so since getting them; not only was she holding the transformation longer, but the heaviness that signaled her being pulled back down to earth had become more tentative, more of a  _ suggestion _ than an  _ insistence. _ “I think you were right. I think my powers like it when I’m feeling combative.”

“You make it sound like they have a mind of their own,” Diana said, half to herself. She sighed. “God. I wish you didn’t have to fight, Anne.”

“I was always going to have to fight,” Anne said shortly, crossing the clearing to reset the stump up on its end. “That’s what a cape  _ does, _ Diana. You of all people should know that.”

When no reply came, Anne turned around to look; Diana’s expression had crumpled in on itself, her lips quivering slightly. “Oh, no, no, Diana,” Anne groaned, rushing over to her friend. “I’m  _ so _ sorry, I didn’t mean to be so harsh--”

“No, it’s--” Diana wiped at her eyes, took a moment to compose herself. “It’s not that. It’s just… you’re going to be putting yourself out there, directly in danger, and I… I can’t do anything except stand back and watch. I feel so  _ useless.” _

“You’re  _ anything _ but useless, Diana,” Anne said, grasping her hands. “Sure, you might not be able to fight by my side, but the only reason I have any chance at all here is because you’ve been holding me up behind the scenes, helping me figure things out. You’re like… my mission control. My intel girl.”

She was gratified to see Diana break into laughter at that. “Intel girl, all right,” Diana said. “I suppose I can work with that. Speaking of which, I had some  _ intel _ that I needed to share with you.”

They took a seat on a nearby log, and Diana pulled out her phone. “It took me a while to dig anything up on our new cape,” she said. “I lost a bit of time looking into a villainess named Bambina, but she’s active down around southern California in the States, and there’s no reason to think she’s relocated--her powers don’t  _ quite _ match up besides. Today, though, I found this.” She pulled up an image and turned the phone’s screen to face Anne. “Does this look like the cape you fought in the supermarket?”

The image was a low-quality black-and-white still from some sort of security footage, but it had managed to capture its subject well. She was wearing a different hooded sweatshirt, but the way she’d combined it with her mask, as well as her stature and what was visible of her facial structure, matched Anne’s memory perfectly. “Yes,” Anne replied. “That’s her. I’d bet on it.”

“Excellent,” Diana said, turning her phone back and flicking back to what seemed to be a page from the PHO wiki. “Her MO fits what you told me, too--she’s a street-level villain, basically a petty crook with superpowers. She goes by the name of Trouncer.”

_ “Trouncer?” _ Anne repeated, eyebrows arching in disbelief.

“Not everybody shares your gift with a  _ nom de guerre, _ Anne,” Diana replied, eyes sparkling wryly. “Not a lot of information on her beyond that, unfortunately. She seems to be a bit of a nomad; she’s been spotted all over the Maritimes over the last couple of years, though this is her first time hitting PEI, as far as I can tell.”

“Why would she pick Avonlea, though?” Anne frowned. “I mean, it’s a perfectly lovely town, but it’s… not much of anywhere. Even Charlottetown would make more sense.”

Diana shrugged. “Easy pickings? I mean, Gil had a point when he said that towns this size are vulnerable to capes with enough power. As long as she keeps her head down and doesn’t do anything bad enough to draw the Protectorate’s attention, she can more or less do what she wants out here. Even more so with you here, since the Protectorate’s going to be liable to view any trouble she causes as  _ your _ problem to deal with.”

Anne’s frown grew deeper.

“Not that this is your fault,” Diana added quickly. “It isn’t, so don’t you  _ dare _ go thinking that.”

“I’ll… try.” Anne chewed thoughtfully at her bottom lip. “Do you have any idea when we can expect her to make her next move?”

“Hard to say. Near as I can tell, she seems to have a pattern of popping up for a smash-and-grab, then laying low until she wants or needs something again. So the fact that we haven’t heard anything from her since last week would be fairly typical.”

“I see.” Anne let her lip slip out of her teeth, popping back into place. “Then it sounds like there’s not much I can do at the moment, except continue to prepare… and wait.”

- - -

As it turned out, she didn’t have to wait very long.

Anne was back at her training after school again the next day; she had determined to make it a daily habit for as long as she could, until Marilla’s questions about the frequency of her ‘walks in the woods’ got too pointed. This time, she’d been experimenting with grappling, testing the utility of different ways of wrapping herself around trees. This wasn’t much, as it turned out--in her transformed state, she was almost infinitely flexible but not particularly  _ solid, _ certainly not enough to contest the solid strength of a tree trunk. She wondered if Diana might be willing to help her test techniques on a human body…

Several minutes of practice later (she  _ was _ improving, she was sure of it), she relaxed back into human form for a break--and leaped about a foot in the air as her phone immediately buzzed in her pocket. Fumbling as she recovered from the surprise, she retrieved it to check what she’d just received.

It was a text from Diana.

_ She’s at the bank. You can catch her if you hurry. _

For a moment, Anne simply stared at the text, processing what it meant.

Then, all fatigue forgotten, she transformed again.

She couldn’t teleport to the bank in one go--previous experimentation had shown that she had a maximum range of a few dozen meters, give or take (give or take  _ what, _ and for what reason, was still under investigation). If she chained multiple teleports together in rapid succession, however, she could cover ground at a blinding speed, outpacing even the average vehicle.

She turned herself towards downtown Avonlea and set off in a series of flickering blinks.

The several minutes that it took her to make her way to the bank were some of the longest of her entire life; if she’d been in the form that had a heart, it would’ve been hammering the entire way over. At last the buildings of Main Street loomed overhead, and she blinked up to a rooftop to get an overhead view of the situation before diving in.

The doors to the bank were standing open, and alarm bells could be heard shrilling from the interior. A pair of police cars had pulled up in front of the building, and the officers had exited, crouching in the shelter afforded by their vehicles. Otherwise, the immediate area around the bank had been cleared, but a handful of people were lurking around the edges of adjacent blocks, at what they clearly thought was a safe distance--the bold and foolhardy, looking to get a glimpse of the latest in the most exciting series of events to happen in Avonlea in a long time.

Trouncer’s presence wasn’t immediately in evidence, but the way everyone’s attention was focused nervously on the doors… she was inside the bank, no doubt. Steeling herself, Anne made one final blink down to the street below, landing in between the two police cars. Her arrival created a stir amongst the onlookers, and she nodded right and left at the officers to either side of her, but before any words could be exchanged, an even larger stir accompanied the emergence of a figure from the bank’s doors. Trouncer looked nearly identical to her appearance in the supermarket, save for the two large moneybags slung over either shoulder.

“Well,” she said in a theatrical voice, drawing the word out into a snide drawl. “Look who it is. I wasn’t sure if you’d be coming, Princess, not after the way things went last time.”

Anne simply tilted her head forward and leveled a fierce glare at her.

“What, no banter?” Trouncer was smirking. “Come on, you’ve got to have something. What about, what was it last time,  _ ‘this stops now’? _ That was good, really set the mood. No? Oh well…” Almost instantaneously, she was somersaulting through the air at Anne, the moneybags dropping to the ground. As before, she’d shifted from banter to offense at breakneck speed.

This time, though, Anne had been watching for it.

She blinked, moving herself several meters back. A shockwave blasted out from Trouncer’s feet as she hit the pavement where Anne had been moments before, fierce enough to shift each of the police cars several inches, sending the officers behind them sprawling. Anne spared a moment to glance at them, and at the civilians around the edges of the fight. Too many people, too close--she and Trouncer both covered a lot of ground, and Trouncer hit a wide area with each attack besides. Anne needed to pull the fight to a safer area, somewhere with fewer bystanders to worry about, before counterattacking in earnest.

She blinked again to dodge another vaulting attack, this time moving sideways down the street.  _ Control the range. _ Trouncer seemed to be able to cover about ten or twelve meters per leap. Anne could run circles around her in that regard, but she had the feeling it wouldn’t be easy to get the other cape to overextend--more likely she’d fall back and force Anne to come to her, maybe even start attacking civilians to force her hand. No, Anne was going to have to carefully dance on the edge of her range, keep herself a tantalizing target, in order to get Trouncer where she wanted her.

Speaking of--Trouncer flew at her again, and another blinking dodge took Anne down a side street, away from the main corridor of Main Street. To her relief, she saw that the onlookers didn’t seem to be going to any great effort to follow them, perhaps catching on that keeping a greater distance would be wise.

“Well, you seem to have figured out how dodging works,” Trouncer said, glowering as she rose from the crouch she’d landed in. “Were you wanting a game of tag, or can you do anything  _ else?” _

Well, how could she pass up a setup line like that?

Anne whipped out an arm in the shape of a tendril, the strike catching Trouncer across the left side of her body. Trouncer swore and stumbled, more out of shock than anything else. Unfortunately, the move seemed to lack much in the way of stopping power, though if it was anything like getting snapped by a wet towel, it probably hurt a lot. Maybe she could use that--wear down Trouncer’s morale without having to risk maiming her.

Trouncer lept at her.

Anne blinked backwards, only to get knocked off her feet as the shockwave slammed into her anyway. Trouncer had hit the ground at a bit of a sideways angle--not unlike a move she’d pulled back at the supermarket. The resulting shockwave had shot forward in a blast rather than radiating out in all directions.  _ So she can control the shape of it. Great. _

Anne tumbled, letting her form flow until she almost resembled a wheel, rolling until she regained enough control to flow back onto her feet. Trouncer was in the air again, unsurprisingly; Anne blinked sideways to avoid the attack, then countered with a one-two pair of lashes from her tendril-arms, making Trouncer grunt with pain and backflip away, out of reach.

“I liked you better when you were helpless,” Trouncer panted.

_ “I’ll bet,” _ Anne grinned.

She moved before Trouncer could, blinking forward right up into the other cape’s face, her form flowing into a snakelike shape and coiling around her torso, formless appendages sprouting and branching off to grasp at her arms. If she could just manage to  _ hold _ her…

“What the--?!” Trouncer yelped. “Get  _ off!” _

They hefted into the air together, coming down with a blast that washed over Trouncer and rippled through Anne. Desperately, Anne snaked out more appendages to try and grasp Trouncer’s legs, but she was so  _ insubstantial  _ compared to the solidity of Trouncer’s body, and every move she made to grab somewhere required shifting mass in a way that weakened her grip elsewhere. They went up and then down again, and again, and again, each landing blasting at Anne’s form until finally she relinquished her grip, sailing into the air like a strip of cloth carried away by the wind. Quickly, she teleported, disappearing midair to reappear at the top of a nearby streetlight, wrapping one arm around it to maintain her grip on it. If it wasn’t exactly a tactically advantageous position for her, well, at least Trouncer would have to think for a moment in order to get at her up here.

_ “Getting tired?” _ she asked, looking down at her opponent.  _ “We can end this peacefully, if you’ll stop causing trouble.” _

All the cockiness had fallen away from Trouncer’s demeanor; she glared up at Anne, lips parting in a snarl that bared her teeth. “Go to  _ hell, _ Princess,” she snapped. “I don’t need another person looking down on me. I’ve had that my entire goddamn life.”

_ “How tragical,” _ Anne commented, making sure the sarcasm in her tone was plain.

“Bite me. Not one single person’s bothered stooping to help me since I was a kid. Not my birth parents, who went and died on me, not those idiot social workers, and  _ certainly _ not any of those miserable excuses for foster parents they crammed me in with.” Trouncer straightened up, squaring her shoulders defiantly. “‘Causing trouble’? I’m looking out for myself, Princess, because I’m the only one who will.”

Anne faltered, lost for words.  _ She’s… a foster kid? An orphan? _ _ “I… know a little bit of what that’s like,” _ she said, tone softening.

Trouncer laughed, and it was a jarring, humorless sound. “You think you  _ know? _ Tell me, do you have a roof over your head? Do you know where your next meal’s coming from? Do you have people to comfort you when you’re sad or scared?”

_ “I--” _

“Then you  _ don’t know!” _ Trouncer exploded, suddenly screaming. “So  _ fuck you, _ Princess!”

She broke into a sprint, going into a flying leap that exceeded all speed and distance she’d displayed until now. Anne froze, able to do little more than watch as her feet slammed into the light pole next to her. 

The shockwave exploded out from the point of impact, and Anne was shot down to the street below at a sharp angle, hitting the pavement with so much force that she was momentarily mashed flat. A sensation exploded through her, though it more resembled a full-body electrical shock than any sort of pain she’d expect from blunt force trauma.

Collecting herself, she lifted her head groggily. The hit had obliterated the top half of the streetlight, and shards of it were strewn all around her. Trouncer was nowhere to be seen.

_ Damn it. _

“Excuse me, Miss, uh, Will-o-Wisp…?” a voice came from behind her. “Are you all right?”

Anne rose, though it was an odd motion, not so much pushing herself up as simply rearranging the shape of her form so that she was standing. She turned to see that one of the police officers had approached her; a couple more were hanging back a few meters behind him, and behind them the crowd of bystanders had fallen in again to gawk at the aftermath of the fight.  _ “I’m fine,”  _ she answered flatly.

A nervous grin appeared on his face. “Good… that’s good,” he said. “Um, thank you for your help here. She probably would’ve cleaned out the bank if you hadn’t stepped in.”

The bank. In all the excitement, Anne had all but forgotten what the fight had been about in the first place.  _ “No problem,”  _ she said.  _ “I’m glad to help.” _ She turned back to look at the empty, slightly wrecked street before her, feeling the slight drag of heaviness that indicated she’d soon have to duck out and change back.

So this was a win, then.

- - -

Anne let out a sigh as she trudged up the walk to Green Gables. She should’ve been overflowing with triumph; she was the hero returning home after beating the villain and ensuring that justice had prevailed. Instead she felt… unsettled.

Logically, she knew it wasn’t all that unusual for Trouncer to be another foster kid. There were a lot of them--more than the system could really handle--and she’d heard that traumatic experiences were one of the things that triggered the awakening of powers… well, there were plenty of those to go around. One only had to look at the circumstances in which she’d awoken her own power to see that.

Somehow, though, the revelation had cut her to her core, so badly that she’d hesitated enough to let Trouncer escape. It wasn’t pity for her, although Anne did have that too--it was a sense that there was a terrible logic to their rivalry. A sort of… destiny? No, that wasn’t the right word for it. More of a… narrative counterpoint, almost.

Before today’s fight, Trouncer had just been a petty crook with superpowers to Anne. Now… she couldn’t shake the chilling feeling, ridiculous as it was, that she might someday rip off that cheap mask to find her own face staring back at her.

Her boots thumped on the front step. She reached for the handle on the front door, but before she could grasp it, the door flew open, revealing Marilla. “Anne,” she said breathlessly.

“M-Marilla,” Anne said. “I’m… um, sorry, I got a little bit caught up in my walk--”

“The bank,” Marilla said. “People are saying that there was some sort of fight at the bank. Are you all right, Anne?”

Anne’s insides lurched with shock, her lips pulled back into a nervous rictus. “What are you talking about, Marilla?” she said. “Of course I’m all right. I was out in the woods, nowhere  _ near _ the bank.”

Marilla blinked rapidly at her, face blank. “Yes… of course,” she said. “Of course, you weren’t at the bank. Why would you be? Forgive me, Anne… the worry must’ve gotten to my head.”

If she’d had her wits about her, Anne might’ve said that there was no need for Marilla to apologize for caring about her--indeed, she would’ve felt very warm and content about the whole affair. As it was, her lips simply made another nervous twitch, and she slid past Marilla into the house, shucking her coat as quickly as possible and making her way towards the stairs.

“Anne!” Marilla called as she began to climb. Anne turned; Marilla was still standing in the entryway, looking at her with a concerned, slightly desperate expression. “I--” The older woman’s lips pursed into a tight line, and she shook her head. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”

Finding herself too short of breath for a verbal answer, Anne simply nodded before turning and heading the rest of the way up the stairs. By the time she reached the landing, she was moving so quickly that she nearly plowed directly into Matthew as he ambled out of his room.

“Whoa, there,” he said, chuckling slightly. “You, uh, trying out for the track team, then?”

It was possibly the dumbest joke he could’ve made, but Anne laughed anyway, feeling some of the tension melt out of her body as she did so. “Oh, you know us young people,” she joked back at him. “Always rushing off in search of our next adventure.”

“Well, you sure picked a good time to come to Avonlea, then,” Matthew said. “More exciting around these parts than it’s been for a good long time, that’s for certain.”

“Yeah…” Anne agreed, “...exciting.” Diana had said not to blame herself for that, but…

Matthew lay a hand on her head and ruffled her hair affectionately. “Don’t worry yourself about it,” he said. “It’ll all pan out. Homework, now, that’s what you should be worrying about. Ooh, nasty business, that.”

Anne laughed again and squeezed past him, making her way to her room, where she flopped down into a sprawl on her bed.

It had certainly been a hectic day.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Bit of a tight turnaround on this one, but I was *really* keen on getting it written an posted.
> 
> Still not sure on the final chapter count, but we're solidly in the middle of the story, narrative-wise. I'll probably get the count figured out sometime around when the finale arc kicks into gear, if previous patterns hold up.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN for homophobic & sexist slurs in this chapter.

Despite no small amount of exhaustion, Anne slept restlessly that night, thoughts turning endless circles in her head with no conclusion or respite. When she did at last manage to drop off, her dreams were chaotic and unpleasant, bits of memories she preferred not to recall or anxious fragments of absurd yet upsetting scenarios.

As a result, Anne woke to the shrilling of her alarm clock already exhausted, and she was practically sleepwalking as she set about getting ready for school. Nor was she being particularly subtle about her current condition, apparently, based on the way Matthew ambled away from the breakfast table and returned with a generous mug of coffee that he set down in front of her. Anne chugged it down gratefully, cringing at the taste--Matthew was apparently a believer in taking it black--and while it offered little relief for the throbbing fatigue headache she felt coming on, it at least restored enough mental acuity that she’d be able to function for the next few hours.

Unfortunately, if predictably, her fight with Trouncer had already made several laps around the rumor circuit, and the other students at school were whipped up into a frenzy of excitement again, which made for a painful contrast with Anne’s exhaustion. She lay slumped forward, the side of her face pressed against the cold surface of her desk as she tried her level best to shut out the nonstop chatter coming from the the other homeroom girls--all except Diana, who had noted with some concern that her friend didn’t seem to be feeling as triumphant as yesterday’s victory might warrant.

“Anne, is something wrong?” she whispered.

“I…” Anne licked her lips and took a moment to balance the overwhelming urge to bare her heart to Diana against the knowledge that that would entail saying a  _ lot _ of things that Anne Shirley had no business knowing in range of a  _ lot _ of prying ears. “I’ll tell you later.”

If this reply did nothing to ease Diana’s worries, it at least stopped any further inquiries.

And so Anne spaced her way through homeroom (weathering a couple of snide comments on the matter from Mr. Phillips, who remained the worst) and limped her way through Spanish  _ (me siento horrible). _ As always, Social Studies came afterward, and while it had been far more tolerable this week on account of sitting next to Gil no longer viscerally pissing Anne off, today it presented the unexpected complication that the number of people worrying over her multiplied by three from homeroom, Diana being joined by Gil and a Ruby no longer distracted by chatting with the other girls.

“Are… are you okay there, Anne?” Gil asked, his eyebrows curling upward into a vaguely distressed expression.

Anne merely made an incoherent noise in response while Diana rubbed her back companionably.

Afterward, Ruby pulled Anne aside and in a hushed tone offered to let her use a hot water bottle that she kept around “to use on the really bad days.” In her addled state, it took Anne a moment to put together what she was getting at, but when she did she was touched by Ruby’s consideration in spite of the misunderstanding.

In the following class, Gil took over for Diana in the department of fussing over Anne, hovering around her like a worried mother hen until she snapped at him to stop doing precisely that. He apologized and backed off, giving her some very obviously-needed space, but even so he wouldn’t stop stealing glances at her, his eyebrows working themselves into some rather impressive shapes of concern. Good  _ lord, _ that boy had an expressive pair of eyebrows. Anne had never seen their like before.

Lunch came and went, ushering Anne directly to the one clase she was dreading the most today: PE. To her surprise, though, forcing herself through physical activity despite her lethargy was not the endless torture she thought it would be; to the contrary, getting her muscles working and her blood pumping roused her considerably, and she walked out of the changing room after class feeling very nearly  _ awake. _ This buoyed her mood considerably, even more so given that her last class of the day was Art, and she’d be spending it sitting next to Cole. If she could not muster artistic genius herself, then at least she could bask in its presence.

“You’re overthinking it way too much,” Cole said, glancing over at her work. “You’ve got to relax and let go a little bit more. It always changes in the transition from your head to the page, and you’ve got to embrace that and learn to roll with it. And, of course--”

“If you say the word ‘practice’ again, I’m going to throw something at you,” Anne grumbled.

“I’m sitting three feet from you, Anne,” he deadpanned. “It’d be way more efficient to just reach over and smack me with it.”

Without looking, she lifted her pencil from her paper and gave him a quick  _ thwap _ atop the skull. “You have only yourself to blame for that,” she said primly as she resumed drawing.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” Cole agreed with a grin that indicated a complete lack of regret.

The bell rang, signaling them to begin gathering up their things. “Hey,” Cole said. “Do you know if Diana’s around anywhere?”

“Yeah, I was going to walk home with her. Why?”

“I just wanted to show her something.” Cole retrieved a spiral-bound sketchbook from his bag and leafed through it, holding up the chosen page to show to her. “I’m doing some preliminary work on a new project, and I wanted to show it to her… see what she thought of the concept, and if there was anything she might want to use it for.”

Anne gaped slightly. Though the picture he was showing her was a rough pencil sketch, its subject was clear: it was another depiction of her as Will-o-Wisp, this one engaged in combat with Trouncer, the two of them posed midair as they leaped at each other. Nothing of the sort had actually happened in the fight--it had been mostly one of them attacking while the other one fell back defensively, back and forth--but as a stylistic impression it was impeccable. He’d even managed to capture the flowing movement of her transformed state in a suitably dramatic fashion.

“So I’m hoping that this is, like,  _ good _ stunned silence and not you being amazed at how awful it is,” Cole quipped.

“It’s  _ incredible, _ Cole,” Anne replied breathily. “You  _ have  _ to promise that you’ll show me the final product when you finish it…” Seeing him look at her expectantly, she suddenly remembered why he’d shown it to her in the first place. “Oh! Right, Diana should be at her locker…”

They set out through the hallways, Anne once again taking the lead while Cole kept up with her pace as best he could. They’d just about gotten to the wing where Diana’s locker was when Anne found their path blocked by the absolute last person she wanted to run into.

“What’s got you in a hurry, Red?” Billy drawled, with the same smug look on his face he always got when he thought he was being clever. His eyes flicked over to Cole, who stumbled to a stop beside Anne at the sight of him. “Ah. Hanging out with Picasso again?”

“Do you even  _ know _ any other artists?” Anne growled. She took Cole by the arm, bringing him along as she pointedly swerved around Billy. Someday, some glorious day, that useless bully was going to get what was coming to him. Until then, she’d at least keep herself between him and Cole as much as she possibly could.

“Are you sweet on him, Red, is that it?” Billy called after them. “Sorry to disappoint you, but everybody knows he’s a fag--”

Anne abruptly halted, feeling something  _ snap _ inside her.  _ “What _ did you just say?” she hissed, rounding furiously on Billy, her hands curling into fists.

Billy took a step back, his bravado evaporating in the face of her fury. “I--I--” he babbled.

“Anne--” Cole said quietly from beside her.

_ “What. Did. You. Say?” _ Anne was seething, wrath tingling through her limbs like electrical current, mingling with the burning under her skin as her powers rose to her aid. Only the knowledge that it was a really,  _ really _ bad idea prevented her from transforming then and there and laying into Billy with all the power at her disposal. As it was, this was probably going to end with her bloodying his nose. She’d deal with the consequences of that later.

_ “Anne,” _ Cole said again, more urgently.

“You  _ worm,” _ she snapped at Billy. She was vaguely aware that everybody in the immediate vicinity was staring at them, but she did  _ not _ care right now. “You horrible--little-- _ shithead. _ How  _ dare _ you call him--”

_ “Anne!” _ Cole tugged at her arm, finally managing to tear the laser-focus of her rage away from Billy. “Come on,” he said. “Leave it. Let’s just go.”

Anne had never wanted to  _ ‘leave it’ _ less in her entire life, but… Cole, looking sad and resigned and desperate to be literally anywhere else, was probably the only person in the world who could convince her to back down right now. “You’re lucky he’s a better person than you,” she said, turning her head to spit a parting shot at Billy. “Next time, I will  _ end _ you, Billy Andrews.”

With an aggravated sigh, Cole pulled at her arm again, and this time she didn’t resist as he led her away down the hallway.

They didn’t end up at Diana’s locker; Cole seemed to have abandoned that idea, now intent on nothing more than putting as much distance between himself and Billy as possible. Anne could hardly blame him for that. He shouldered his way out a side door, and with an ease that suggested that he’d done it many times before, located a small niche in the exterior of the school where he and Anne could sit, largely out of sight of anybody else.

“I can  _ not _ believe him,” Anne seethed as they settled to the ground. “Just calling you--calling you something like  _ that, _ without a hint of shame! What the  _ hell _ is his problem?! What, so just because you’re, you’re artistic and emotionally sensitive, that automatically makes you gay? What kind of  _ idiotic _ logic--”

“Anne,” Cole said, voice barely above a murmur. “I  _ am _ gay.”

Anne’s train of thought, which had been barreling forward with the self-righteous fury of a freighter, suddenly found itself violently derailed, and she had to take a moment to recover herself. “But… that’s even  _ worse, _ then,” she said. “That’s not something you should make fun of someone for, and he went and called you  _ such _ a nasty thing, and--and--” She sighed, gently reaching forward to lay a hand on top of Cole’s. “Cole, I am so,  _ so _ sorry.”

He shrugged, affecting a carelessness that didn’t quite manage to be believable. “It’s not your fault,” he said simply.

“That’s not what I mean, Cole.” Anne shook her head. “Does… does everybody know, then?”

“No,” Cole said. “I mean, I think he just said that because, you know, that’s what guys like him say about guys like me. I haven’t told anybody.”

“Have you told your parents?”

“I haven’t told  _ anybody,” _ Cole repeated with emphasis. “My parents already wonder what they did to deserve such a complete weirdo for a child. Put this on top of that… I think they’d freak out.”

“...I see,” Anne said. She squeezed his hand. “Well… thank you for telling me.”

He nodded, but as he did so his eyes fixed on her face, boring into her with an intense expression as though he were searching for something there.

“What?” she asked.

“Oh.” His gaze dropped; he shook his head. “...nothing.”

“No, really, what is it?”

“I guess. I just, um.” He swallowed. “I was just… wondering… I mean, like, seeing the way you and Diana are around each other… it kind of occured to me… that maybe you were also…?”

Anne flushed pink. “Oh.”

“Sorry,” Cole added quickly. “I know that’s probably, like,  _ really _ presumptuous of me--”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Anne interrupted. “Really, it is. I just… never really thought about it.”

“I mean, that’s fair,” Cole said. “Growing up, everybody was just… expecting me to be interested in girls, as a matter of course. Even when I started to figure out that it wasn’t really happening for me, it took forever to consider the possibility that there might be an alternative.”

“Really, it’s more that I haven’t given much thought to romance with  _ anyone. _ I mean…” Anne gestured broadly at herself. “I’m not exactly romatical material here. Just look at me.”

Cole raised an eyebrow. “I’m looking,” he said. “Not quite sure I see what you mean.”

Anne flushed again. “Well,  _ if _ Diana were into girls, I’m sure she’d want somebody far more beautiful and elegant than me.”

“If Diana were into girls,” Cole replied matter-of-factly, “you’d be at the top of her list, Anne. And that’s leaving aside Gil’s massive, obvious crush on you.”

_ “What?!” _ Anne’s flush flared scarlet. “No. No way. You’re out of your mind.”

Cole laughed, letting his head loll back to rest on the wall behind him. “Thank you, God,” he sighed. “At long last, I’ve actually met somebody who’s more hopeless than I am.”

“Shut  _ up!” _ Anne protested, giving him a solid  _ thwap  _ on the arm with the back of her hand. His laughter was infectious, though, and soon enough she found herself laughing along, the two of them giggling together until at last it petered out into silence.

“Anne?” Cole said after a moment. “Really, though. Thanks for having my back.”

“Anytime,” Anne grinned. “I mean it. If you ever need me to come beat up Billy for you, just say the word.”

“You’d get in  _ so  _ much trouble.”

“Worth it.” Anne put her hand on his knee. “And hey… I know it’s hard to shut them out, really I do, but… Billy, and the others like him, they’re all wrong about you. You’re an amazing artist, and you’re also a wonderful person. You deserve to find a place in the world where people love and appreciate you for who you are.”

Cole snorted. “Well, it’s not here,” he said. “Here, I’m just the town freak.”

“Well, from one freak to another… I’m glad I know you, Cole.”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m glad I know you too, Anne.”

- - -

Finally overpowered by her cumulative exhaustion, Anne slept like a rock that night, and woke up reinvigorated enough to be her usual spirited self--which was good, because she intended to be  _ very _ spirited that day.

She spent the better part of the morning keeping half an eye out for Billy, fully intending to finish what she’d started yesterday if he were inclined to make an issue out of it. It was all for naught, however; she didn’t catch so much as a glimpse of him in the hallways between classes. Had she managed to frighten him into laying low? Certainly the looks and mutterings she was getting from the other students she passed--some admiring, some less so--would seem to indicate that their altercation wouldn’t simply blow over so easily.

She was so caught up in this that what happened in English class caught her completely by surprise.

Following another passing period with no sign of Billy, she’d settled down in her seat in the classroom and taken out her copy of  _ Jane Eyre, _ reading over the section they’d been assigned for homework. She’d already read it, of course, but she found that refreshing her memory immediately prior to the class discussion was usually a good idea. And, of course, there was the fact that it was one of her favorite books in the entire world, and reading it was always a delight.

There was the scuff and shuffle of somebody sitting down in the seat to her left; she didn’t even have to look up to know that it was Gil, her perpetual classmate. Now that his presence in her personal space was no longer a perpetual irritation, Anne found that she actually enjoyed the constancy of his presence throughout the week. It was like having a little anchor point that she could moor herself to.

“Hey,” he said as he sat.

Something about the terse flatness of his tone made her glance up from her reading. Any thought of returning the greeting, or inquiring after his well-being, fled the moment her eyes landed on his face. “Gil,” she gasped. “What happened?!”

There was a livid red bruise on the side of his face, splashed precisely along his cheekbone. Given that it hadn’t yet begun to darken, it couldn’t be more than a couple of hours old. “It’s nothing,” Gil said, tone still short and expressionless. His hand moved automatically to cover up the bruise, only for him to wince gingerly when his fingers brushed it. “Don’t worry about it.”

Anne fixed him with a look.  _ “Obviously _ I’m going to worry about if you’ve gotten yourself hurt, Gil,” she shot back. “Now how did you--”

“I said it’s  _ fine, _ Anne,” Gil snapped. He hadn’t looked at her since they’d started talking, but now he was studiously and deliberately avoiding her gaze. “Can you just… not stick your nose in it here, for once?”

Anne rocked back slightly in her seat, drawing in a sharp breath. “Wow,” she said. “Okay. If that’s how you feel about it, then fine.” She very conspicuously returned her attention to her book, though the words were no longer parsing in her brain. That was fine. Not letting Gil see how much his words had stung her--that was the important thing here.

After a moment, she could swear she felt Gil’s eyes on her, and a moment later she was almost sure he was on the verge of saying something else. She didn’t look back at him, but her jaw tightened as she pretended to keep reading, all but  _ willing _ him to say something else, to take back what he’d just said to her. The moment passed, though, and with a sigh, Gil retrieved his own book from his bag and cracked it open.

Needless to say, the remainder of English was thoroughly miserable, and not even discussing her favorite book in the entire world was able to lift Anne’s spirits.

- - -

“Anne,  _ when _ are you going to tell me what’s bothering you so much?” Diana asked as they departed school together.

“Nothing’s bothering me,” muttered Anne, who had in fact been bothered by a great many things over the course of the last couple of days. Honestly, she didn’t quite know where to begin.

Diana gave her a look that was so full of concern and pity that it physically hurt. “Anne…”

“I said I’m  _ fine, _ Diana,” Anne snapped. “Can you just--” She stopped short, leaving the sentence incomplete. “God,” she said half to herself. “I sound just like Gil. God  _ damn _ it.”

Diana winced slightly at the oath but didn’t comment on it. “Is this about Gil, then?” she asked instead.

“Well of  _ course _ it is,” came a wry voice from behind them.

The two of them turned to see Jane, her eyes sparkling with the promise of juicy gossip. “So you both heard about what happened this morning before school, then?” she asked.

“You mean, with Gil?” Diana frowned. “I mean, obviously I noticed his bruise, but I didn’t hear where he’d gotten it from. I got the impression that he’s not particularly interested in telling anybody.”

“He isn’t,” grumbled Anne.

Jane’s eyebrows lifted. “He didn’t even tell  _ you?” _ she asked Anne.

“No,” Anne replied. “Not that it was for a lack of asking on my part… wait, why would he tell  _ me _ in particular?”

A slight smirk appeared on Jane’s face, not unlike that of the proverbial cat. “Well, anyway,” she said instead of answering the question. “Apparently, this morning, Gil intercepted Billy on their way to school. Pulled him aside before they got to school grounds, like.”

Diana and Anne both gaped at her. “Gil got in a fight with Billy?!” Diana said.

“Well, not at first,” said Jane, seeming all the more pleased at their evident disbelief. “Seems like Gil just meant to give him a talking-to, something about what happened yesterday with Cole. Mind you, I got all this from Billy, and he was kind of… paraphrasing what Gil said to him.”

Anne let out a breath that was very nearly a snarl. She could imagine only too well what kind of  _ paraphrasing _ Billy would engage in. “So the argument got out of hand, and turned into a fistfight,” she said. She could hardly blame Gil for that--in fact, she regretted that it hadn’t been her giving Billy a thrashing.

“Well, I guess you could say that.” Jane’s eyes were still gleaming. “See, the thing is, it seems like Gil really did just want to talk to Billy. It got pretty heated, yeah, but Gil was on the verge of dropping it and walking away. And then…” Her gaze lingered meaningfully on Anne. “Well. Billy said something about  _ ‘that crazy redheaded bitch’, _ and… Gil slugged him.”

Anne’s stomach dropped. “What.”

“Yep,” Jane affirmed cheerfully. “No warning, just a straight shot to the face. Gave Billy a really impressive shiner from it.  _ That _ was when it turned into a fight.”

Anne stared at her for a long, silent moment. Then, without a word, she whirled around and stormed away.

She’d left so suddenly, and walked so quickly, that she was a full block and a half away before Diana caught up with her. “Anne--” Diana said.

“I cannot  _ believe _ him!” Anne exploded.

Diana’s eyes widened. “Billy…?” she asked tentatively.

_ “Gil!” _ Anne snapped. She felt the flare beneath her skin of her powers rising to help her, and brusquely shoved them aside. “What, does he think he’s fighting for my honor or some stupid thing like that?!”

“I don’t think--”

“Because I don’t  _ need _ him to fight for me! I am  _ perfectly _ capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much, and I would have been  _ perfectly _ fine taking Billy on my own terms, so if Gil thinks I’m going to thank him for swooping in and trying to play the white knight--”

_ “Anne!” _ Diana said loudly. The uncharacteristic experience of hearing her raise her voice shocked Anne into silence, allowing her to continue. “I don’t think he  _ was _ thinking, Anne,” she continued in a more normal tone. “The way Jane was describing it, it sounded like he just sort of… lost his temper. Forgive me for saying so, Anne, but surely that’s something you can understand…?”

Anne ground her teeth, but she had to concede the point. “Why didn’t he tell me, then?” she grumbled, not willing to let her grievance go that easily. “He could’ve just told me, instead of saying I was being nosy.”

“Maybe he was afraid you’d react like this,” Diana said.

“If he knew I’d react like this, then he should’ve known better,” Anne said.

“Oh, Anne,” Diana sighed. Anne’s breath hitched slightly as she felt Diana’s hand close around her own. “I can’t claim to know what Gil was thinking. I only know that if it were me, and I heard somebody insult you like that, I… well, I don’t start fistfights, but I’d certainly have  _ words _ for them. I’d lose my temper too, in my own way.”

Anne couldn’t reply; her throat was suddenly stopped up. Her hand trembled in Diana’s, and received a reassuring squeeze in return. They walked the remainder of the way in silence, until they’d come to the walk in front of their houses, and Diana turned to her and said, “I suppose I just want to say… remember what I was saying the other day, wishing there was more I could do to help you? You don’t have to carry everything on your own, Anne. You have people who love you.

“Love?” The word came out of Anne’s mouth in a ragged whisper. “Do you… love me, Diana?”

Diana smiled beatifically. “Of course I love you, you outrageous, wonderful girl.”

Since dying on the spot of emotional overwhelm wasn’t a particularly viable option, Anne simply embraced her friend and bid her farewell before trudging slowly up the drive to Green Gables, her mind churning. Diana had spoken of love--true kinship between spirits. Reflecting on it, on all that had happened in the deceptively short time since she’d come to Avonlea, she could begin to see it. Certainly, such a kinship existed between her and Diana, and in a different way between her and Cole. Matthew and Marilla had their own bonds with her, in their particular idiosyncratic ways. And Gil--

Putting  _ Gil _ and  _ love _ together in the same thought raised such a panic in Anne that she firmly cut off that train of thought. Throwing the front door open and shutting it firmly behind her, she’d shucked her coat and clomped all the way through the living room and partway up the stairs when she was stopped by Marilla calling from the kitchen door, “Anne, wait.”

“What,” Anne snapped, whirling to face her. Only when she met Marilla’s gaze, steady beneath a single raised eyebrow, did she realize  _ who _ she’d just snapped at. Her shoulders slumped and she dropped her eyes. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“Would you sit with me in the living room for a moment, please?”

Anne trudged back down to the living room, plopping down in a chair opposite from Marilla and bracing herself for a talking-to.

Marilla’s lips pursed as she apparently considered her words. “Now, this is the second day in a row that you’ve come home all in a tizzy,” she said. “And, well, I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t have much experience doing this, but… is there anything going on that it would help you to talk to me about?”

It took Anne’s brain a moment to catch up to the fact that Marilla was asking about her well-being instead of lecturing her.  _ No, I’m fine, _ she didn’t say. Instead, she opened her mouth and everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours came pouring out, sans sensitive information such as Cole’s sexual orientation or Anne’s status as a cape.

Marilla looked vaguely startled at the sudden onslaught of feelings, but she listened intently as Anne talked, and once the deluge had dribbled away to nothing, she sat looking contemplative. “Well,” she said. “I’m sorry, Anne, that all sounds… very stressful. You’re of an age where you’re beginning to understand how difficult and unfair the world can be, and… well, I remember how hard it was.” She sighed. “I can’t make your problems go away, but I can make you some tea, if you think that’d help?”

“Tea sounds lovely,” Anne replied, wearied by the sudden and unexpected catharsis of all the feelings she’d been carrying around.

Marilla rose and swept into the kitchen; a few minutes later, she returned with a pair of teacups. Anne accepted the one extended to her and sipped at it gratefully--generous helpings of milk and sugar, just the way she liked it.

“If you find you can do nothing else, you can always make yourself a bit of tea,” Marilla commented between sips from her own cup. “I’ve found over the years that it helps a lot more than you’d think.”

“I’ll remember that.” Anne took another deep drink from her cup, sighing contentedly as she lowered the cup away from her lips. “You really  _ are _ a kindred spirit, Marilla.”

“I--” Marilla looked confused and pleased in equal measure. “Thank you, Anne.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Well, as you might be able to tell by the gap between the last chapter and this one, this chapter was a bit difficult to get through, partly due to the heavier content and partly due to external factors. But here we are.


	10. Chapter 10

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay for dinner, Miss Anne?”

Anne’s mouth began watering involuntarily at the mere thought of having more of Bash and Mary’s cooking, but she swallowed it down as she buttoned up her coat. “No, thank you,” she replied. “I’m sure Marilla’s got something cooking back at Green Gables--back home, that is. I wouldn’t want her to go to that trouble for nothing.”

Bash crossed his arms and tilted sideways so that he was leaning against the wall of the entryway, fixing her with a gaze that was too piercing for her liking. “Well, I won’t hold you back. But we like your company, Miss Anne. Feeding you once a week is a small price to pay for that.”

“I… thank you, Bash.”

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that you and Gil wouldn’t say boo to each other the whole time you were here?”

Anne felt the tips of her ears heat up. Of course, he’d go and put his finger on it like that. “It’s fine,” she said with forced lightness, realizing a little too late that this wasn’t actually a denial.

“Pardon me for prying, Miss Anne,” Bash said. “It’s just that, like Gil said, we’re family, so I’d like to know if you need me to go and talk some sense into that hard head of his.”

“No, really, it’s fine,” Anne said quickly. It was all so stupid, really--she had no idea what she and Gil were fighting about, or if they were even fighting at all. She only knew that it was suddenly intensely uncomfortable to be around him, and if she was reading the way he was acting correctly, he seemed to feel the same way. “And… you don’t have to keep calling me Miss Anne, Bash. Just plain Anne is fine.”

“As you like, Just Plain Anne.” Bash grinned widely at her, and Anne couldn’t hold in an amused snort. “There we go, got you to laugh, at least. Same time next week?”

“Count on it,” agreed Anne. Whatever this new, weird thing between her and Gil was, she couldn’t and wouldn’t let it get in the way of her training. Her duty as a cape was too important for that.

- - -

Rumors were like the vines of an invasive plant--they spread slowly and almost imperceptibly, until you looked around and realized that they’d gotten everywhere. By the time Monday rolled around, the rumors surrounding Anne and Gil’s successive confrontations with Billy had spread throughout the entire school, and while accounts varied--such was the nature of the rumor mill--most people who heard the story came to the same conclusion: that Gil had fought Billy to defend Anne’s honor.

Needless to say, this created a whole host of problems for Anne.

This quickly became apparent in homeroom as Anne walked in and all of the homeroom girls swiveled their heads around in unison to look at her. She stumbled a bit, flinching involuntarily from the collective force of their gazes, which ran a range of expressions: Tillie mildly outraged, Josie outraged but somehow in a  _ snooty _ way, Jane feigning outrage but with a telltale twinkle in her eye that suggested she was still thoroughly enjoying all this drama… Ruby’s expression, however, was the worst--her puffy, red-rimmed eyes had a look of abject hurt and betrayal that was like a knife to the gut.

Heart sinking into her bowels, Anne silently took a seat next to Diana, positioning herself to keep her friend between her and the rest of the girls.

“So, um…” Diana murmured to her with a sidelong glance.

“Yeah, I can guess,” muttered Anne, conspicuously flipping open a binder to check over a homework assignment that she’d already triple-checked the night before. Somehow, in the chaos of everything that had been going on, the fact that Ruby was utterly smitten with Gil had slipped her mind. One more item on the list of things she did  _ not _ need right now.

“Really, I think a lot of it is just unfortunate timing,” Diana said to her later in Social Studies. Anne had picked a seat as far from her usual spot with Gil and Ruby as she could reasonably manage, and Diana, ever faithful, had followed her. “She’s been so worked up lately about the barn dance, and--”

“What, the  _ what?” _ Anne interrupted, the part of her brain that was determined not to care momentarily submitting to the part of her brain that hated not knowing things.

“The barn dance…?” Diana repeated. “Wait, has nobody told you about that?”

Anne scowled. “Why would anybody tell me  _ anything _ when they can just expect me to know it already?”

“Uh--” Nonplussed, Diana pressed on. “Well, it’s something our school does each year, going back… well, really far depending on how you figure it--it was sort of inspired by the sorts of socials that happened back when Avonlea was just a little farming community. Even more so than it is now, I mean. It’s one of the biggest social events in the school.”

Anne buried her face in her hands. “Let me guess. Ruby was gearing up to ask Gil to the dance?”

“Well, more to strongly hint that  _ he _ should ask  _ her _ \--she’s a bit traditionally-minded that way--but, yes, essentially.” Diana nodded solemnly. “It was going to be her big move on him. She was getting really excited about it and, well… you know how she is with her highs and lows…”

Diana trailed off, and Anne peeked through her fingers to see her friend looking across the room at something. “If Gilbert Blythe is staring at us,” Anne snapped, “I want you to march over there and hit him over the head for me.”

“Oh, um, I mean--not  _ staring,  _ exactly, just--well, he and Ruby are talking to each other, and…”

“...and by that you mean she’s talking to him, and he’s only half listening because he keeps looking over here,” Anne finished grimly.

“That’s… not inaccurate, I suppose…”

“Great,” Anne sighed. “Let’s just see how much Ruby can possibly hate me by the end of the day, shall we?”

- - -

“Wow, Anne,” Cole said as they packed up. “I think this might be your best work yet. Very expressive.”

The work in question had been Anne’s preoccupation for the entirety of Art; they’d been working with charcoals, and Anne had turned out a depiction of a looming, ominous figure swathed in shadow, all bold strokes and light-dark contrast. “What can I say,” she replied. “I’ve got a lot to express.”

“Yeah, about that,” Cole said. The two of them hauled their bags over their shoulders and headed to the front of the classroom to turn in their work, then out the door. “You seem like you’re… not doing great today.”

“Oh, I’m doing just  _ fine,” _ Anne replied in the most venomously sarcastic voice she could muster. “I mean, sure, the entire school’s convinced that Gilbert Blythe is hopelessly in love with me--do  _ not _ say anything, Cole--and so of course they’ve decided that they’re allowed to just nose in to my private business all willy-nilly, and oh, yeah, Ruby Gillis isn’t talking to me anymore on account of me apparently being a man-stealer--but aside from that handful of  _ minor _ things, I’m doing just  _ peachy!” _

“Yikes,” Cole commented lightly, having listened patiently to the entire diatribe. “I’m sorry about all that.”

“Yeah, well.” Anne shook her head. She felt like she’d just spewed forth some kind of oily black sludge that had been festering inside of her, and already she could feel the sense of relief settling into her body. “Thanks. Sorry I kind of… went off, there.”

“I think you’re allowed, when you’re having a day this shitty.” Cole glanced sidelong at her. “...do you have any plans for after school?”

“I mean, homework, but… no, not really. Why?”

“I have… I mean, there’s kind of… a place that I go, when things get really bad and I just want to get away from everybody.” Cole rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s… well, it’ll sound stupid if I tell you, so I think I should probably just show you. If you want to, I mean.”

Anne softly sucked in a breath. “Cole… if it’s your sanctuary, I don’t want to intrude…”

“It’s fine.” He smiled at her. “You seem like you need it right now. And besides… I trust you.”

It took Anne all of five seconds to come to a decision. “Let me text Diana to tell her I’m not walking home with her today,” she said, “and then let’s go.”

- - -

“Wow,” Anne said, looking up at the building rearing into the sky before them. “What  _ is _ this place?”

“It’s just an old grain elevator,” Cole replied. “It was abandoned ages ago, longer than I can remember. Maybe even before I was born. The point is, nobody comes here anymore--at least,” he added, nodding at some crude graffiti that they were passing, “not in the middle of the afternoon, which is when I usually find myself needing it.”

Anne revolved as she walked, taking in the scene around her. The building was  _ old;  _ not in an absolute sense, but it had an air of abandonment and dilapidation that she could feel in her bones as she looked at it. It was perched just a little ways from the edge of town, which was visible in the distance in one direction, and in the other direction, an expanse of untamed wilderness stretched away as far as the eye could see. Already, she was writing the story of this place in her head, a melancholic tale of a lonely spirit who wandered the building in the dim of the night...

“So yeah, this is where I come when I need space,” Cole said as they stepped inside the hollowed-out shell of the building. It was colder in the way that only old concrete buildings could be, and Anne pulled her coat tighter around her. “Space to just… be, you know? Away from people, away from noise, away from all the crap I have to deal with… I get so much art done in here, you have no idea.”

“I think I have  _ some _ idea,” Anne shot back. “I sit next to you in Art, remember?” She grinned at Cole, who grinned back at her. “Seriously, thank you, Cole. This place is  _ incredible.” _

“Thought you’d like it. Feel free to duck in here anytime, don’t feel like you need to ask me first or anything. I like having you around, and if for some reason one of us really needs to be properly alone, it’s big enough for us both to have space.”

Anne wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug. “Thanks. You’re  _ amazing.” _

“Shut up,” he said, but he was smiling.

They found a reasonably comfortable spot and settled into companionable silence. Cole pulled a sketchbook out of his bag and began focusing intently on drawing; meanwhile, Anne took out her copy of  _ Jane Eyre _ and began to read the next assigned section. Not that that was particularly necessary given that she practically knew the book backwards and forwards at this point, but… come on, it was  _ Jane Eyre. _

Lost in their respective worlds, it was hard to say how long they sat there together, only that the sun had begun nodding toward the horizon when the silence was shattered by the ringing of Anne’s phone. “Sorry, sorry,” she whispered to Cole, who merely glanced up with an indifferent smile. She fumbled to retrieve the phone from her bag, and was about to summarily reject the call when she saw that it was Diana’s name on the screen.  _ Why would she call now…?  _ “Hello?” Anne said, holding the phone to her ear.

_ “Anne!” _ A pit formed in Anne’s stomach at the note of panic in Diana’s voice--and at the cacophony audible behind it, which distinctly contained multiple other people crying out in alarm.  _ “Anne, she’s here, she’s on Main Street again, I don’t know what she’s trying to do, she’s just wrecking everything--” _

“Get out of there, Diana!” Anne said, springing to her feet. “Get out--I’ll be there as soon as I can, just  _ go--” _

_ “Hurry, Anne!” _

“Is everything all right?” Cole asked as she hung up.

“No,” Anne replied sharply. “That villain’s back, she’s hitting downtown again--no, stay there!” she added as he began to get up. “You should stay here for a little bit, it should be safe in about half an hour, one way or the other--”

“But  _ you’re _ going,” Cole pointed out.

“It’s--Diana, I have to get to Diana, I have to make sure she’s okay--” Anne knew the excuse didn’t make much sense as she spoke it, saw the puzzled frown wrinkling Cole’s forehead, but she absolutely didn’t have time to think of anything better right now. “Just  _ stay here, _ okay?!” she said desperately. “I’ll text you later so you know I’m all right--”

Holding herself back as she sprinted away was one of the hardest things Anne had ever done, but she managed to wait until she was out of Cole’s line of sight before transforming. She flickered across the landscape in bursts, willing herself forward, urging her powers to carry her just a little bit further and get her there just a little bit faster--

Diana’s call didn’t prepare her for what she found at the scene.

Main Street was all but in ruins. Glass had been blown out of storefronts up and down the street, littering the pavement with shining fragments. Cars that had been parked at the curb were sitting at odd angles, windows shattered, massive dents knocked into their bodies. It was eerily silent; everyone had seemingly managed to clear out in the time it had taken Anne to get here, leaving her alone save for--

“Hey there, Princess.” Trouncer’s hips swung insolently as she strolled towards Anne. “About time you made it. I was beginning to wonder if you’d show.”

_ “What on Earth are you doing?!” _ Anne demanded.

“Just blowing off some steam. You know.” An unpleasant smile spread beneath Trouncer’s mask. “You ever get into one of those moods where you’ve just got to go out and break some shit?”

Anne didn’t reply.

“Well, I’m glad you did show,” Trouncer continued, rolling one shoulder and then the other. “Shattering windows is satisfying in its way… but it’s going to be even more satisfying to break  _ you.” _

_ “Wait--” _ Anne gasped out, but of course Trouncer was already moving, sailing through the air at her. She impacted the pavement with a powerful blast; Anne, moving almost entirely on instinct, blinked backwards away from it.  _ “Will you just hold on a--” _

“Nope!” sang Trouncer. She leaped at Anne again. Growling in frustration, Anne blinked away from this attack as well, reappearing behind Trouncer and stretching her arms out into tendrils that wound around her torso.

“Not  _ this _ shit again--!” Trouncer groaned as Anne reeled herself in, forming herself into a shapeless blob around Trouncer’s upper body. Trouncer responded by flopping to the ground and rolling around wildly, as though her clothes had caught fire and she was trying to snuff them. “Get off get off get off  _ get off--” _

_ “Will--you--just--listen?!” _ Anne snapped, ignoring the bizarre sensation as her form was ground between Trouncer’s body and the pavement.  _ “I want to talk!” _

“Yeah, I’ll  _ bet _ you do!” Trouncer rolled to her feet and leapt, slamming backwards into the side of the nearest building. The electrical-shock sensation of being crushed ran through Anne’s form again, but based on the way Trouncer grunted, it seemed to have actually  _ hurt _ the other girl far more. “You’re just… such a perfect  _ hero, _ huh?” Trouncer spat, panting for breath. “You’re going to talk to the poor disturbed orphan girl and make her see the error of her--”

_ “I’m an orphan too!” _ Anne said, practically yelling in her ear.

Trouncer stopped short, and once she was sure she wasn’t about to start jumping again, Anne relaxed her grip, slithering down to the ground and reforming herself into humanoid shape in front of her.  _ “I get it, okay?” _ she said.  _ “I’m a foster kid too. I know how they shuffle you around, how it feels like nobody’s ever going to really care about you. It sucks.” _

“...yeah.” Trouncer was regarding her with dull, wary eyes. “Yeah, it does.”

_ “But it’s not inevitable! I’ve found people here who really, honestly care about me. I’m sure there’s people out there who’d do the same for you. It’s so, so hard to let go of your past and look to the future--I know, it’s something I’m still learning to do myself--but it’s so, so worth it.” _

Trouncer snorted. “So… what, you’ve found your fairytale ending, and now you’re going to help me find mine?”

_ “I mean…” _ Anne looked around at the devastation surrounding them.  _ “Obviously, you’re going to have to reckon with the things you’ve done. But I think there’s a way forward through that too, if you’re willing to take it.” _

Without warning, Trouncer took a quick bunny-hop forward; caught off-guard by the resulting blast, Anne was knocked off her feet, tumbling in a flailing whirl of limbs. “I don’t  _ need _ your pity, Princess,” Trouncer snarled. “I don’t need  _ you, _ or  _ anybody!” _

Anne started to pick herself up.  _ “It’s not about needing--!” _

She was interrupted by another blast hefting her into the air. “DO!” _ BLAM.  _ “NOT!” _ BLAM.  _ “LECTURE!” _ BLAM.  _ “ME!” _ BLAM. _

Regaining her senses midair, Anne blinked, moving out of range and landing in a three-point crouch, glowering at Trouncer.  _ “Will you calm down and listen?!”  _ she yelled.  _ “I’m trying to give you a chance here--” _

Trouncer came at her, whirling through the air. She hit the pavement with one foot, then twisted and planted the other, then twisted again, an odd spinning maneuver that sent a rapid-fire volley of shockwaves shooting at Anne. Anne stumbled back from the assault, then blinked behind Trouncer again. This time, when her tendrils lashed out, they wrapped around Trouncer’s throat. Trouncer let out a strangled yelp as she fumbled to avoid being pulled over backwards.

Something tugged forcefully at Anne’s tendrils; Trouncer had gotten her feet back under her and jumped, pulling Anne along with her, like a grotesque parody of a water skier being pulled along by a motorboat. As she hit the ground, Trouncer grabbed at Anne’s tendrils and twisted her torso, hauling with all her might. It was enough leverage to pull Anne off her feet and send her flinging around in a wide arc. She had exactly enough time to think  _ Oh, no, _ before she was slammed into a wall.

Anne had never been pasted against the side of a building before, and it was not an experience she would recommend to anybody else. She slid to the ground in a shapeless heap, then quite literally pulled herself back together. Some distance away, Trouncer was letting out ragged breaths as she massaged her throat and glared venomously at Anne. Anne met her gaze head-on, girding herself with the realization that they were going to be playing for keeps here.

The moment was shattered by a loud noise; Trouncer reflexively dropped to the ground while Anne looked wildly about for the source. A police car had pulled up a block and a half down the street, and an officer stood beside it, his pistol shaking slightly as it pointed in Trouncer’s direction.

_ “No--!” _ Anne called at the exact same time that she heard Trouncer say “Well, fuck this!”; she turned to see Trouncer vaulting through the air to a nearby rooftop. Spitting out an incoherent noise of frustration, Anne blinked after her, only to be hit by an anticipatory shockwave as she reappeared. The blast knocked her off the rooftop, and by the time she’d fallen down to the street level, bounced, collected herself, and blinked back up, Trouncer had vanished.

- - -

The next day, Anne found herself the talk of the school again, only this time it was as Will-o-Wisp.

To her surprise, the consensus seemed to be that she had successfully driven off Trouncer following the villain’s sudden and vicious attack on Main Street. Anne had been thinking of their fight as a stalemate, but the fact that she’d given Trouncer a solid run for her money seemed to be sufficient comeuppance by most people’s reckoning.

Anne’s reckoning ran a little differently. She wanted to stop it from ever happening again.

It was odd, of course, hearing Ruby vocally sing the praises of her-as-Will-o-Wisp when she was still refusing to talk to her-as-Anne. Today, though, it didn’t bother her nearly as much; she had plenty to preoccupy herself with, doodling idly in her notebook while she ran over the fight in her head, backwards and forwards, figuring out what she’d done wrong and what she could do better next time. A couple of times, she scribbled a technical question for Diana in her margins, sliding the notebook over for her to write a reply in her meticulously neat handwriting. With all of that running through her head, Ruby was very nearly an afterthought.

She wasn’t, of course, the only person who was an afterthought that day.

Anne had begun to avoid Gil almost automatically--or perhaps he’d begun to avoid her, or both--and so despite his presence in the bulk of her classes, he was far enough from his usual proximity to her that Anne barely registered him, until the lunch bell rang and she walked out of her last class of the morning, straight into him waiting for her in the hallway.

“Hey,” he said, and her stomach did an odd little flip as his eyes met hers. “...can we talk?”

“Yeah…” Anne said. “Sure.”

But they didn’t talk, not for a long stretch of time as they walked side by side, the air between them heavy with tension. Finally, Gil ran his tongue over his lips and sucked in a deep breath to speak. “I’m sorry,” he said simply.

Anne’s gaze flickered over to his face, but she couldn’t hold it here. “For what?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied, the words coming out twisted with frustration. “It’s just… things have suddenly gotten so weird between us, and I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault somehow. So, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Anne said, then when Gil raised an eyebrow at her, quickly added, “No, that’s a stupid thing for me to say. Obviously it’s not fine, I just… I don’t actually know why things are so weird.” She looked up, staring Gil in the eye. “Did you start that fight with Billy because of me?”

Gil blinked, startled but not truly surprised. “I went to talk to him because he… well, I don’t need to tell you what he said about Cole. We used to be friends--I think he thinks we still are friends--and so I thought, maybe, he’d actually listen to me if I told him that wasn’t okay. Then he started saying nasty things about  _ you… _ well, I’ve already told you what I think of you. So I lost my temper, and I took a swing at him.” He sighed. “Wasn’t actually looking to start a fight, but he punched back, so that was that. God, I wish I hadn’t done it.”

“He had it coming,” Anne muttered.

“Maybe,” Gil agreed, looking sideways at her. “But my dad always taught me to solve my problems with words, not fists.”

“I’ve found that sometimes fists work where words are useless.” Anne snorted softly, her mind drifting back to her own confrontations with Billy… to Trouncer. “I don’t need you defending my honor, you know.”

“Believe me, that was the furthest thing from my mind,” Gil said. “It was just… one of those times when you’re so angry you have trouble thinking straight. Forgive me for saying so, but maybe that’s something you can understand…?”

“Diana said the same thing the other day,” Anne grumbled.

“And?”

“...yes, I do,” she conceded with a sigh, drawing a chuckle from him. “Gil… I’m really sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Yes, I do, the way I’ve been treating you--”

“I’m the one who’s been making you uncomfortable--”

“Will you  _ stop _ contradicting me?!” she snapped. He held up both hands in surrender, and she let out a breath. “Gil, I’m sorry I keep… running away from you, instead of trying to talk these things over with you. I’m not… used to being this close to people, and I’m still learning things. I want to do better, so that I can be the friend you deserve.”

He looked at her, long and steady, something hiding in the depths of his eyes. “It’s water under the bridge,” he said with a soft smile.

The silence as they continued to walk was much easier now, and at length the sound of students clamoring in the cafeteria began to filter down the hallway to them.

“So, um,” Gil said in what sounded like a very deliberately casual tone. “Have you given any thought to who you want to go to the barn dance with?”

Every nerve in Anne’s body was instantly alight, standing at attention. “I, uh,” she replied eloquently, completely failing to keep her voice from going high and wavering. “...should I have?”

His eyebrows went up. “It’s… the weekend after next, you know.”

“I  _ didn’t _ know, in fact,” Anne replied hotly, “I didn’t even know it  _ existed _ until yesterday, because nobody sees fit to  _ tell  _ me these things--” The rant was a satisfying pressure valve for her feelings, but she bit it off seeing the startled look on Gil’s face. “Does that mean, um, that you’ve decided who you’re going with, then?”

He chuckled, but it came out sounding tight and forced. “I mean, I’ve given it some thought, yeah, but I haven’t come to a final decision yet. I’m still, you know…” His eyes settled on her again, and there was that  _ look _ in them again. “...weighing my options.”

Anne’s brain engaged full panic mode, and as usual, chose to resolve it by hurling the first thing it could come up with out of her mouth. “What about Ruby?”

_ That _ took him by surprise; his head actually flinched backwards slightly as he blinked in shock. “What  _ about _ Ruby?” he replied.

“I mean--” Some distant part of Anne’s brain, reading his reaction, noted that this was probably a conversation thread best gracefully abandoned, but it was utterly helpless to hit the brakes on the babble that was tumbling out of her mouth. “She likes you  _ so _ much, you know, and she’s so,  _ so _ keen on going with you, I’m sure she’s going to start dropping hints any day now, so, I mean, if you think you’d--”

“I, ah,” he interjected, cutting her off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t get me wrong, Ruby’s… really nice and all, but… I don’t think I’m really  _ interested _ in her, you know.”

Anne’s mouth went dry, and she stared at him wide-eyed. All her instincts were screaming at her to bolt, and the only reason she didn’t obey them is that she’d  _ just _ said that she didn’t want to keep running away from him…

“Anyway, forget it,” Gil said quickly, his eyes flicking up and down over her face. “It’s not a big deal, or anything. I was just curious.”

“Right,” she said just as quickly, unable to stop from breaking into a relieved grin. “Right, yeah. Sorry, I’m so… boring.”

“Believe me, you’re anything but.” His smile was a little tight, but there was genuine feeling in it. “By the way, do you think you’re going to be able to stay for dinner this weekend? Bash has been bugging me about it ever since you took off last time.”

“Oh!” Anne felt herself flush slightly. “No--I mean, yes, that sounds lovely. I’m… sorry I wasn’t able to stay last time.”

“Yeah… me too.” The expression that flickered over Gil’s face quickly turned roguish as he added, “But not as sorry as Bash is going to make me if you don’t stay this time around.”

“I  _ said _ I would already!” Laughing, Anne exchanged farewells with Gil and made her way into the cafeteria. The line had already mostly dissipated, so Anne collected her meal quickly and found her way to where Diana had saved a table just for the two of them, dear heart that she was.

“There you are!” Diana exclaimed, looking up as she approached. “I was beginning to worry. What kept you so long?”

_ I was talking with Gil, _ Anne thought. “Diana, are you going with anyone to the dance?” was what actually came out of her mouth.

Frowning at the whiplash change in subject, Diana replied, “No… I mean, I suspect there are a couple of boys who mean to ask me, but…” She made a face that clearly indicated what she thought of the boys in question.

Anne dropped her tray on the table and took the seat next to Diana. “How about going with me, then?” she asked. Seeing Diana’s look of surprise, she continued, “It’ll be great! Just two bosom friends, enjoying a night of fun in each other’s company, no stupid social rules to maneuver, no… complications…”

“Anne…” A smile slowly crept over Diana’s face. “That’s a  _ brilliant _ idea. Of course, I’d love to go with you!”

“Then it’s settled!” Anne said, basking in the feeling of relief washing over her. And if there was a nugget of another feeling in there, one that wasn’t nearly as pleasant… well, she didn’t look at it too closely. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teen drama! Getcha teen drama heah! (No, really, this section was labeled "teenage drama go!" in my notes.)


	11. Chapter 11

“The barn dance, hm? I remember that.” Marilla made a soft sound of concentration as she pored over the needlepoint that she was currently occupied with.

“Mm-hm.” Anne, curled up on the couch across the living room from her, was hypothetically reading a book, but she kept finding her attention drawn to Marilla and her work. She’d never actually seen anybody do needlepoint before, and she was finding it oddly fascinating to watch. “Diana says it’s been a regular feature of the school’s social calendar for a long time.”

“She’s certainly right,” said Marilla. “It had been even back when I was a girl, and that was… well, it was a good while ago, let’s just put it that way.” She let her needlework drop into her lap and looked over at Matthew, who was sitting in the chair next to hers. “You remember, don’t you, Matthew?”

“Mm?” Matthew’s nose bobbed up from where it had been buried in Anne’s copy of  _ Jane Eyre; _ he’d asked to borrow it after she’d held forth for nearly twenty minutes on its merits as a work of literature, and from what she could tell, he seemed to be enjoying it immensely. “Oh, uh… yes, I do remember it a bit, yes.”

“You know that Jeannie would’ve gone with you if you’d have just asked her,” Marilla added, as though she were chiding him for something that had happened the other week and not decades ago.

A stricken look crossed Matthew’s face, and he bobbed down again into the book. “Was fine,” he mumbled at half the volume he’d been speaking a moment before. “Was just fine going on my own.”

Marilla gave a thoroughly unconvinced  _ hmm _ and went back to her needlepoint.

“Well, I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed going with anyone as much as I shall going with my dear Diana,” Anne declared over the top of her book. “We will spend the evening thoroughly enjoying each other’s company, free from petty drama and the mystifying rules of gender relations.”

Marilla’s eye crinkled slightly as she glanced up. “That sounds very sensible of you, Anne.”

“Oh, I was thinking, erm,” Matthew said, resurfacing. “Main Street’s still closed down, of course, but uh, maybe we could pop over to Carmody sometime this week and get some kind of a nice dress for you to wear.”

Anne sucked in a breath, her head filling up with visions of heavenly sartorial elegance, which were all rudely interrupted by Marilla replying, “I don’t see why that’s necessary. She’s got nice enough clothes to wear as it is, doesn’t she?”

“But it’s a  _ dance, _ Marilla!” Anne protested. “You  _ have _ dress up special for a dance--even I know that, and I’ve never been to one!”

“You  _ can _ dress up Anne, that’s my point. You’ve got the clothes for it; there’s no need to go spending a pretty penny on something you might well never wear again. It’s a frivolous expense.”

“Now, Marilla--” Matthew began.

“I’ve said all I have to say on the matter, Matthew,” Marilla replied primly.

“No, I said  _ listen, _ Marilla!”

Anne gasped, her head snapping around to look at Matthew. She’d never heard him speak to Marilla that way before; Marilla might not have either, judging from her shocked expression. Even Matthew seemed vaguely surprised at the vehemence that had come out of his mouth, stopping to take a deep breath and collect himself. “The way I see it,” he continued deliberately, “she’s only going to be young the once, and if we’re taking on the task of raising her up, then it’s our responsibility to give her every chance to enjoy it. Now maybe, as you say, it’s not a  _ necessary _ expense, but it’s no great burden on us, either. I’ll gladly pay for it out of my own pocket, if it come to that. Why not just let her have this, Marilla? What’s the harm in it?”

Stunned silence hung over the Cuthbert household. Anne swallowed, throat aching, the beginnings of tears pricking at her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to rush over and sweep Matthew up in a hug, but she was terrified of upsetting this precarious moment.

“Matthew Cuthbert, you’re going to spoil the girl rotten,” Marilla sighed at last, starting in again on her needlework. “Just take Diana with you when you go, would you? The girl’s got more fashion sense than the three of us put together.”

Now Anne  _ did _ rush over to embrace them--both of them.

- - -

“Anne, Diana’s here!” Marilla called up the stairs.

“On my way down!” Anne responded.

She rounded the bend in the staircase to see Marilla, Matthew, and Diana gazing appreciatively at her as she descended, as though all three of them hadn’t seen her in the dress already. Anne couldn’t help grinning even as she flushed self-consciously. Marilla had been right, and Diana had done marvelously in helping Anne pick a dress, settling on a sleeveless number in a vivid azure blue that contrasted gorgeously with the bright red of Anne’s hair. For once in her life, Anne didn’t have to pretend very hard to feel like a beautiful princess.

“That dress looks good on you, Anne,” Marilla commented as she approached. “Well worth it, I have to admit.” The implicit retraction of her earlier stance warmed Anne a bit, and she threw Marilla a grateful glance in return.

“You look amazing, Anne,” said Diana, who was something of a vision herself in her eye-catching red dress. She offered an arm with mock solemnity, and Anne took it, struggling to suppress her smile to match her friend’s deadpan expression.

“All right, then, you two,” Matthew said, affecting a gruff demeanor that made it hard for Anne not to break out in giggles. “Stay out of trouble, and Diana, you have her back home by… er, ten?” He looked over at Marilla. “Eleven?”

Marilla rolled her eyes, but her good humor remained in place. “Just bring Anne back in one piece, Diana.”

“I think I can manage that,” Diana grinned.

They strolled down Green Gables’ walk arm in arm, Matthew and Marilla watching them fondly from the front porch. Diana had pulled her car, a silver sedan whose simple elegance was a perfect match for her, up to the curb in front of the house, and she stepped forward to open up the passenger side door. “My lady,” she said with a slight bow as she held it open for Anne.

“Oh, thank you kindly,” Anne replied, dropping her a quick curtsey before climbing in.

She managed to hold it together just long enough for Diana to round the car and get in the driver’s side before the two of them dissolved into delighted laughter. “Oh, this is going to be a wonderful night,” Diana sighed. “Aren’t you excited?”

“I am,” Anne agreed. “I can hardly believe it’s finally happening. I’ve spent the last week and a half holding my breath, wondering when Trouncer’s going to try to pull something again.”

Diana made a thoughtful noise as she turned the car on and pulled away from the curb. “That’s right, I meant to tell you,” she said. “She popped up just the other day--in Charlottetown.”

Anne blinked.  _ “Charlottetown?” _

“I was as surprised as you are,” Diana said. “I double- and triple-checked to be sure. The description matched her, as did the powers. It was her usual MO, too--smash and grab, disappear before she can draw too much heat.”

“Huh,” Anne said. “Do you think… maybe she’s moved on from Avonlea, then?”

“It seems like it,” Diana said. She gave Anne a sly sideways smile. “Maybe she got tired of you foiling her dastardly deeds all the time.”

_ “Twice, _ Diana,” Anne laughed. “I foiled her  _ twice, _ and both times I won by default because she ran away.” She looked out the window up at the stars, which were shining clearly in the night sky. A confusing mix of emotions was stirring in her. There was relief, as one might expect--the thought of no longer having to scramble at the drop of a hat to keep people from getting hurt released a tension in her she’d barely been conscious of holding the last few weeks. But there was an edge of melancholy to it too; in spite of how their last confrontation had gone, part of Anne refused to give up on the idea that maybe, just  _ maybe, _ if she could figure out the right thing to say, she could show Trouncer that there was another way for her.

They pulled into the school’s parking lot; Anne could see lights shining from the windows of the gymnasium in the colored patterns that only ever got used for big social events, and as they exited Diana’s car, they could hear muffled music playing.

“Huh, I remember this song,” Diana said. “Wasn’t it really popular, like, three years ago?”

“Um,” Anne replied eloquently, having never heard it before in her life. The question was dropped, in any event, as they made their way towards the gym, joining a trickle of other students that began to thicken into a throng the closer they got.

“Diana, wait,” Anne said as they closed in, squeezing her friend’s hand.

Diana came to a halt. “What’s wrong, Anne?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” A wide grin slowly grew over her face. “This… is just my first-ever school dance, and I want to take a moment to savor the… momentousness.”

Diana squeezed her hand back, and once they had paused for the proper observance of the occasion, they pressed forward together into the gym.

Somebody had gone to great lengths to make it a true  _ barn  _ dance; there were great big decorations adorning the walls that were designed to evoke the wooden walls of a stereotypical red barn, and Anne gasped in delight when she saw that there were honest-to-goodness bales of hay stuck here and there around the edges of the room, stacked such that they made for compact but convenient seating. Things seemed to still be in the early stages, with the majority of students simply milling about amid a murmuring din of chatter, but a few enterprising spirits had taken to the center of the floor and begun to dance, singly or in loose groups. Anne clung tightly to Diana, allowing herself to be swept along as her friend made a casual circuit around the edges of the room, pausing momentarily to greet people, most of whom Anne recognized by sight if not by name.

There had been a handful of moments since coming to Avonlea where Anne might have described herself as almost nearly perfectly happy, but this one was sending her spirit to its greatest heights yet. Everywhere she looked, she saw something that delighted her heart, even if it was as simple as a construction-paper cow hanging on the wall, or someone dancing their heart out without a care for who was watching them. Tying it all together, though, was… well, she was  _ supposed _ to be here. These soirees had always been something that happened for other people, and yet here she was in the middle of one, and nobody,  _ nobody  _ was questioning why she was there, not with so much as a dirty look. Taking Diana into account, there were even people in the room who  _ wanted _ her there.

_ Home… _ her mind whispered.

Diana was tugging at her arm. “Come on!” she called over the noise, indicating a table along one wall which had a gigantic bowl of punch laid out on it. 

They made their way over, and Diana was in the process of ladling out two cups of the stuff when a familiar voice came from behind Anne. “Um… excuse me.”

Anne turned automatically. Ruby was standing behind her in a particularly flouncy pink dress. For a moment, Anne nearly turned away again, assuming that Ruby was trying to get Diana’s attention, but she stopped herself; Ruby was unmistakably looking directly at  _ her, _ a serious yet earnest expression on her face. “Do you… have a moment?” Ruby asked.

Anne looked back at Diana, who nodded emphatically. With a mounting sense of anxious confusion, she allowed Ruby to draw her aside to an unoccupied patch of wall. Ruby was fidgeting slightly, seeming rather anxious herself, though Anne couldn’t think of a reason why she would be until Ruby opened her mouth again and said, “I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

It took Anne a moment to process the words. “Why?” she asked.

“For the way I’ve been treating you lately,” Ruby said, and her gaze was fixed in the middle distance; she was speaking with the air of somebody who’d given a great deal of thought to the words beforehand. “No, for the way I’ve treated you since you first arrived. I’ve been horrid to you and I need to apologize for that.”

“It’s fine, Ruby. You were upset.”

Ruby shook her head. “I had no claim on Gil,” she replied. “The other girls have let me call dibs on him for years now, and I’d gotten so used to that, I just… expected you to do the same, without a thought as to whether that was fair.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Anne said with a nervous laugh. “I mean, Gil and I aren’t…”

She trailed off as Ruby gave her a skeptical look. “Either way,” she said, and Anne felt a small pulse of gratitude that she wasn’t pressing the issue. “I treated you like that because I was acting like I own Gil, which I don’t. So that’s what I’m apologizing to you for.”

“Um. Thanks.” Anne felt her face heat up slightly. “Aren’t you here with Gil, though?”

Upon immediate reflection, it was clearly a stupid question, but fortunately Ruby took it gracefully, simply shaking her head with a small, sad smile. “I asked him, of course, but… well, he was nice about it, but he turned me down flat. Looking back, I think I should’ve realized a long time ago that he’s not interested in me, but I was so determined to hope…” She sighed. “I’m here with Moody.”

“Moody  _ Spurgeon?” _ Anne blinked in surprise, the name conjuring up the image of a bumbling, if kind-hearted, boy that she shared a couple of classes with.

“Yeah…” Ruby was smiling shyly. “He asked me not long after Gil turned me down. I figured I didn’t have much to lose at that point, and it turns out he’s actually really sweet.” She looked up and waved across the gym; on the other side of the room, a dark-haired boy in the middle of growing out of a stocky build waved back. “I should get back to him. But Anne… let’s talk soon? I’ve missed talking to you.”

“You have?” Anne asked, unable to conceal her astonishment.

“Mhm.” Ruby nodded. “You always say the most interesting things.” With a final fluttering of her fingers farewell, she set off across the room to rejoin Moody.

Anne returned to Diana, feeling dazed. “I’m not sure I understand what just happened,” she said.

“What just happened,” Diana replied matter-of-factly, pushing a cup of punch into her hands, “is that somebody who was treating you poorly apologized for it. It’s what’s supposed to happen, and I only hope that one day you actually get used to it happening.”

Anne lifted the punch to her lips and, tilting her head back sharply, drank down the entire cup in a single shot. Her eyes roved over the room and landed on a familiar lanky figure half-slouched in a corner. “Look, it’s Cole!” she said, tugging at Diana’s arm.

Together, with only some difficulty, they made their way over to him. He straightened up as they approached, expression brightening. “Hey,” he said by way of greeting.

“Hey yourself,” Anne replied, grinning at him. She thrust out a cup full of punch that she’d brought with her, and with a slight smirk he accepted it and took a drink. “Getting into the spirit of the party?” Anne asked.

“I mean, I’m here,” he said. “That’s a really nice dress, by the way. Yours too, Diana.”

“Thanks,” Diana said, beaming at him. “You look nice too.” That was a bit of a polite fiction, given that he was dressed in a button-down shirt and slacks that were not sized quite right for him, hanging awkwardly off of his skinny frame… though the effect did kind of work for him in a starving-artist kind of way. With his sleeves rolled up, he even managed to make the effect look a bit roguish.

“I’m going to make a proclamation,” Anne proclaimed as he finished off his punch. “I think… that we should all go dance together.”

Cole snorted. “I have no idea how. I’d just make a fool out of myself.”

“I mean…” Anne threw a glance over her shoulder at the clump of dancers in the middle of the floor, which had grown substantially larger than when they had first come in. “So are most of the people out there.”

“She’s right, Cole,” Diana agreed. “If there was ever a night to go out and make a fool of yourself, it’s tonight.”

Cole grinned, and allowed himself to be dragged out by the pair of them, one on each arm, stopping only to set his empty cup down on a nearby hay bale. The DJ started to play a raucous, thumping song, the sort that could only be properly ‘danced’ to by jumping up and down, so that was exactly what they did, their giggles slowly crescendoing into outright shrieks of laughter as their bouncing grew in wild abandon.

It was hard to tell, exactly, how long they spent dancing. Anne’s brain slid into an absolute flow state, one she was familiar with from getting engrossed in a good book, only in this case the book was her own life, the absolute joy of getting to let herself go with two of her favorite people in the world. All she knew was that when they finally stopped for a breather, sweat had begun to collect along her brow and down her back, and her legs had begun to ache--but it was a good ache, which wasn’t something she’d known had existed until this very moment.

“Phew,” Diana panted, bending over slightly with her hands on her knees. “I hope they start playing some slower songs soon.”

“I think they’re just starting the slow dance songs now,” Cole said, and indeed the tones that had begun floating over the dance floor were far more subdued.

“Um…?”

The query came from behind Anne, and when she looked, Gil was standing there--Gil all dressed up in a fancy shirt and slacks that were fitted to him perfectly, crisp edges everywhere complimenting his natural lines. Anne swallowed involuntarily, and she could swear she felt heat rising in her cheeks even though she was already thoroughly flushed from dancing.

“Cole,” Diana said, “would you care to lead me in a slow dance or two?”

“My pleasure,” Cole replied.

Anne whirled around, but the two of them were already melting into the crowd of dancers--and  _ what _ was that look they were both giving her as they disappeared?

“Um, so,” Gil said, pulling her attention back to him. “Are you… enjoying the dance?”

“Yeah,” she said, a bit breathlessly--though that was clearly because she was winded from her earlier exertions. “Yeah, it’s very… invigorating.”

“Yeah,” Gil agreed with a chuckle. “Yeah, it is that, all right.”

He looked at her.

She looked back at him.

“So, um… unless you’ve got… I mean, if it’s not intruding on your evening too much…” He rubbed at the back of his head with one hand. “Do you want to dance?”

Anne’s nerves sparked as they had before, a tingling of electricity starting in her spine and spreading out to her limbs. She bit down on the sensation, pushed it aside.  _ I said I would stop running away from him. _ “No--I mean, yes, that would be fine.”

His lips twitched into a smile, and he took a step toward her. His hands came to rest lightly on her waist; for a breathless moment she remembered how much of a sweat she’d worked up earlier, but if he noticed he didn’t comment on it. Taking her cue from the people around them, she put her hands on his shoulders in return, and they began to sway softly together, moving in time with the music.

“You said this was your first dance, right?” he asked. “Is it everything you imagined it’d be?”

“I…” She drew in a breath. “I don’t think I could ever have imagined anything as wonderful as this.”

“Yeah?” He was smiling at her, a light shining in his eyes. “I’m glad to hear it.”

As they continued to sway, Anne was surprised to feel herself relaxing into the dance. Not that the buzzing in her nerves went away, exactly, but it began turning less harsh and more pleasant, making her feel less on edge and more…  _ engaged. _

She was actually disappointed when the song ended.

Before she could get a single word out of her mouth, though, Gil asked, “You up for the next one too?”

“I…” Truth be told, the answer to that question was emphatically  _ yes, _ but… “I don’t want to keep you away from… well, whoever it was you came with,” she sighed, inwardly cursing her staunch moral fiber.

Gil, however, just chuckled softly and shook his head. “I’m stag tonight,” he said. “I didn’t come with anyone.”

_ What? _ “What?” she said, unable to keep herself from staring at him, wide-eyed.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I just… couldn’t think of anyone I wanted to ask.”

Anne felt oddly as though she were standing on a precipice; she couldn’t shake the sense that she and Gil were carefully circling around something wild and just a little bit dangerous. Once again, she forced herself to push past the feeling. Moving by unspoken agreement, she and Gil stepped back into their loose dancing embrace, swaying to the ethereal tones of the music that were flowing around and through them.

And then, in what she could only define as a fit of madness, Anne pushed even further forward, wrapping her arms around the back of Gil’s neck and pressing her body to his.

She felt him gasp against her. “Is this okay?” she murmured to him. He made an affirmative noise and she turned her head sideways, nestling her cheek into his shoulder. She didn’t really know why she was doing it. She didn’t really know what it meant. But it felt… nice.

Then an earsplitting  _ BOOM _ tore through the gym as the back door blew off its hinges.

A chorus of startled screams filled the air. Gil’s loose grip on Anne’s waist instantly turned to a firm grasp, and he pivoted, putting his body between her and whatever had happened even as he craned his neck around to try and get a look at it. Anne, looking over his shoulder, had a clear view.

_ No, _ she thought desperately.  _ No, no, no, no, please don’t let it be-- _

But it was.

The all-too familiar silhouette of a hooded figure in a half-mask stalked forward through the wrecked doorway. “All right, Princess!” Trouncer called, yelling to be heard over the increasing din of panic that was filling the room. “Come on out and play! I know you’re here somewhere!”

How?!  _ How _ did she know that?! Anne’s mind flickered frantically back through their previous interactions, trying to find the moment that had betrayed her. Was it because she’d told Trouncer she was a foster kid? Or… maybe she’d just said enough that Trouncer had guessed that she was in high school?

The crowd was surging away from Trouncer, on the verge of becoming a stampede; Gil was moving with the current to avoid people plowing into them. Anne mindlessly followed as he pulled her along, her brain too busy trying to work through the current predicament to do anything else.

A hand tugged at her elbow. “Anne, this way!” Diana’s gaze was as hard and clear as a diamond.

“Diana--!” Gil started to say.

She waved him off. “I’ve got her. I think Ruby and Moody need help--!” She didn’t wait for him to respond; the moment he turned to follow her pointing finger, she pulled Anne away, and the two of them were moving together through the crush of people.

Finally, they emerged near the DJ booth; Diana maneuvered them to the relative shelter behind the sound equipment. “Will this be good enough?” she asked.

Anne’s jaw clenched. “It’ll have to be.”

She transformed, and blinked.

A sudden hush fell over the crowd as she appeared in the middle of the floor. Trouncer turned from where she had been menacing a knot of girls, baring all of her teeth in a savage grin as she faced Anne.  _ “There _ you are,” she said. “Glad I found you, Princess. Did you miss--?”

The question cut off with a yelp. Anne’s arms had lashed out as long tendrils and wrapped around Trouncer’s ankles, pulling her feet out from under her; twisting hard, Anne sent her flying sideways and crashing into the drink table, sending all of the students nearby scattering in panic.

Trouncer let out a pained grunt as she tried to hoist herself back up to her feet, but Anne wasn’t done yet. Flicking a tendril out again, she wrapped it around a stray hay bale and whipped it up in an arc, bringing it down on top of Trouncer like the head of a hammer onto a nail. As Trouncer crashed back down to the ground with another cry of pain, Anne flickered so that she was right on top of the villain, stretching and looping her arms around her neck and shoulders. Trouncer let out a choked sound as Anne hauled upwards, bending her backwards into a submission hold.

_ “You dare,” _ Anne hissed, the sound coming out weird and menacing in her altered voice.  _ “You  _ **_dare_ ** _ to come here and ruin this night? Threaten my friends?” _

Trouncer let out another choked sound that might have been an attempt at replying; at any rate, it was quickly rendered moot as they went rocketing forward, Trouncer having managed to get her feet under her and push with all of her parahuman might. The uncontrolled jump sent them sailing through the wrecked aperture that had previously been the gym’s back door. They hit the ground outside at a tumble, Anne losing her hold on Trouncer and flowing back up to her feet. Trouncer regained her footing as well and launched herself at Anne with a bestial snarl. Anne blinked out of the way as she impacted, counterattacking as she reappeared with a one-armed tendril whip that caught Trouncer in the face, sending her sprawling to the ground with a cry of pain.

Anne followed up on the attack pitilessly, lashing Trouncer with both arms on a repeating one-two beat that gave the villain no chance to collect herself before the next one hit. Yet she managed to collect herself nonetheless, arching her back against the blows and pushing herself up enough to launch herself at Anne in a headlong flying tackle. Anne made no attempt to dodge; instead, she deformed herself as Trouncer collided with her, letting her form stretch and bend with the hit. It was like trying to tackle water, and Anne simply flowed out of Trouncer’s grip, turning to face the villain as she hit the ground and awkwardly tumbled to a halt.

“Fuck you,” Trouncer spat, squatting on all fours as she rounded on Anne. “Fuck you, fuck you,  _ fuck you, _ Princess--”

She was cut off by another tendril lash to the face.  _ “My name,” _ Anne replied coldly,  _ “is Will-o-Wisp.” _

_ “Fuck you!” _ Trouncer repeated, clutching at her face. “So just because you’ve had everything you needed handed to you on a platter, you think you can look down on me, you think you’re  _ better _ than me, you piece of--”

_ “I think nothing of the sort,” _ Anne snapped.  _ “You’re trying to hurt people, I’m trying to protect them. That’s all there is to it.” _

Trouncer let out another snarl as she shoved herself to her feet. Her stance was tense and uncertain, Anne noted, like a dog with its hackles raised, as if she were sizing up whether to stand her ground or run.

_ “...I tried,” _ Anne sighed.  _ “I tried to talk to you, I wanted to help you, I  _ **_really_ ** _ did… but all it did was make you angrier. Maybe that’s on me. Maybe I messed up somewhere. Maybe…”  _ She shook her head.  _ “Leave Avonlea.” _

“What?!”

_ “You heard me.” _ Anne glared at her.  _ “I can’t keep doing this, Trouncer. Not when we cause so much destruction every time we fight. So leave. I don’t care where you go, just get out of Avonlea and don’t ever come back. Because if you don’t…” _ Her form flickered ominously, the motion almost involuntary, instinctual.  _ “Next time, I’m going to end this. Whatever that takes.” _

Trouncer stared at her for a long, breathless moment, a churning mix of confusion and rage and fear shining out through the eyeholes in her mask. Then, without a word, she turned and took a great leap away into the darkness.

Anne watched her go until she had fully vanished into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. Suffice it to say, life's been a bit crazy for me lately--finding a new living situation now of all times, things exploding at work--but I managed to get this chapter pulled together, and that feels really good.
> 
> We're hitting the boiling point here, people, so fasten your seatbelts.


	12. Chapter 12

“You two are sure you’re going to be okay?” Gil asked through the car window.

“We’ll be fine,” Diana replied from the driver’s seat. “I’ll get us both home just fine, never you fear. You should get home yourself so that your family knows you’re all right.”

“Yeah… okay.” Anne could feel Gil’s eyes lingering on her. She knew she should look back at him, that she should say something, _anything,_ even if it was just to wish him goodnight… but she simply couldn’t bring herself to. The unspoken, unnameable _thing_ that had passed between them earlier that night sat quietly in the back of her head, a pale shadow of its former self, more the remembered concept of an emotion than true feeling. Try as she might, she couldn’t get her brain to tap into that feeling right now.

The soft crunch of footsteps and the buzz of the window rolling back up alerted her that Gil had departed, but Diana didn’t turn on the engine. The two of them sat in silence, watching the school parking lot. The immediate aftermath of Anne’s fight with Trouncer had been a chaotic rush of activity, students scrambling to get to their cars and get out of the parking lot so that they could get themselves home to worried family; in the time it had taken for her and Diana to find each other and get back to Diana’s car, the frenzy had slowly died down to the point of a mere trickle consisting of those who had, for one reason or another, held off on leaving right away. Red and blue illumination washed over everything, cast by the lights of a police car that had pulled up to the curb in front of the gym, although at this point there was little for them to do but take stock of the damage.

“This was all my fault,” Anne said, breaking the silence.

“Anne, no--”

“I was careless,” Anne pressed on, suddenly animated by the surge of self-recrimination. “I let too much slip, and she figured out that I was a high schooler, and she targeted the dance to get at me.”

_“Anne.”_ Diana’s hand reached across to grip hers. “This is on her, not on you.”

“I _knew_ what she was, Diana!” Anne said. “I _knew_ she was the kind of person who didn’t care who she hurt. I should’ve been more careful, paid more mind to protecting the people around me.”

“No, Anne, you don’t understand.” Diana’s hand squeezed. “This is bigger than you and her. You don’t go after a cape in their civilian identity, you just _don’t._ It’s one of the rules.”

Anne paused, looking at Diana in bewilderment. “...rules?”

“I mean, it’s not like they’re written down or anything, but…” Diana sighed, looking out the windshield. “There’s… unspoken agreements between capes, and that’s one of them. Everybody holds to them, even the villains… except for the very worst ones.” She turned her head to look Anne firmly in the eye. “She crossed a line tonight, Anne. That’s her fault. Don’t blame yourself for it, _please.”_

“Okay…” Anne sighed. “Okay.” Maybe, for Diana’s sake, she’d even be able to do it.

Matthew and Marilla were waiting on Green Gables’ porch as Diana pulled the car up. Getting out and slowly making her way towards them--it was so _odd_ suddenly, like moving through a dream--Anne opened her mouth to say something for no reason other than that it felt like she should, only to find that there was something in her throat blocking the words.

“Shh,” Marilla said, moving forward and reaching for her shoulders. “I know, Anne. I know.” She pulled Anne against her in a warm, gentle embrace. “You’ve had a hard night. I’ve put some tea on; you can take some time to settle yourself down before going off to bed.” Passing Anne off to Matthew so that he could hug her in turn, she added, “Diana, you are of course also welcome to tea if you think that it would help.”

Diana shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m sure my parents are frantic right now. I should get home so they can see for themselves that I’m all right.”

Her car began to pull back out of the drive to make the short trip to the Barrys’, and Matthew gently guided Anne into the house with one hand, Marilla following close behind them.

\- - -

“I _can’t_ believe they still had school today,” Jane said.

Anne scribbled idly with a pencil, making an edit to her work that she was almost certain wouldn’t be an improvement on the original. That was fine; it was something to keep her hands and eyes occupied while the rest of the homeroom girls talked.

“Not much point in closing it, is there?” Diana said. “It’s not like the building got trashed--aside from the hole in the gym wall, of course, but that’ll take a while to get fixed up.”

“It’s not the _damage,”_ Jane replied in an elaborately pained tone. “It’s the _danger._ Who’s to say that Trouncer won’t have another go at the school?”

“She could’ve done anytime the last few weeks,” Diana said. “That’s hardly new.”

“Besides, we’ve got Will-o-Wisp protecting us,” Ruby piped up.

Josie snorted. “Oh, right. Because she did _such_ a great job of that on Saturday.”

“She _did,_ though!” Ruby huffed indignantly. “She chased Trouncer off before anybody could get hurt, in case you hadn’t noticed. And that was at the drop of a hat, when she was probably just trying to enjoy an evening out dancing like the rest of us.”

Anne’s lips quirked into a small smile as she made another unnecessary edit. Dear, sweet Ruby. She was so glad they were on speaking terms again.

“Speaking of,” Jane said, and Anne’s stomach dropped at the tone of her voice. “Am I understanding correctly that Will-o-Wisp _goes to our school?”_

“I mean, Trouncer apparently thought so,” Tillie said. “That’s why she attacked the dance, right?” 

“And Will-o-Wisp _did_ show up almost immediately…” Josie added thoughtfully.

Anne’s gaze drifted nervously sideways towards the conversation, and she saw Diana’s gaze straying over to her in a mirrored expression. Should she step in? Say something to try and throw them off this line of inquiry? Could she even do that without raising their suspicions?

It was while she was grappling with this dilemma that Ruby spoke. “Will you just leave it alone?” she snapped, glaring as fiercely as Anne had ever seen her glare.

Apparently the other girls had never seen it either, judging by how taken aback they looked. “I’m just saying--” Jane began.

“Well, don’t!” Ruby said. “She’s got a right to her privacy, hasn’t she? She’s out there all the time putting herself at risk for all our sakes; the least we can do is leave her be and let her secret identity be secret.”

The other girls looked away, muttering things that might have been justifications or apologies, chastened. For her part, Anne hid another smile as she kept her eyes intently fixed on the work in front of her. It was nice to have another person on her side.

\- - -

Anne spent the remainder of the week suspended in a state of vague anxiety, only managing to focus on schoolwork with great effort. She hoped, of course, that Trouncer had heeded her warning and skipped town for good, but given that the villain habitually let a fair amount of time pass before making her next move, it was going to be quite a while before Anne could let herself trust that the whole thing was truly over. And if it wasn’t, and Trouncer _did_ try pulling something…

_“Next time, I’m going to end this. Whatever that takes.”_

What was that going to _mean?_ Naturally, Anne hoped that she could simply restrain Trouncer somehow until she could get arrested, but she had the feeling Trouncer wouldn’t just take that sort of thing lying down. What if she had to do something more drastic, like, say… break her legs so that she couldn’t jump?

(Anne’s stomach folded in on itself at the thought of that.)

Fortunately, she was far from the only one who was overcome with trepidation after the dance, and so her state of constant worry blended invisibly in with the mood of the student body overall--with a handful of exceptions.

“Hey,” Gil said from behind her one day as they were filing out of Social Studies. “Are you doing all right?”

“I’m fine,” Anne said, looking back at him. “I’m--” She looked forward again, only to see Diana and Ruby pulling away at a pace they clearly thought was inconspicuous, throwing knowing glances back at her as they vanished down the hallway. Great, now she was dealing with this from _both_ of them.

“You just seem more tense than usual,” Gil said, cutting into her inward groan of exasperation.

She accepted her fate with a small sigh and looked back at him. “I mean, can you blame me? With…” She made a vague gesture to indicate the concept of _everything._ “Since the dance, you know?”

“Oh yeah, no, that’s completely fair,” Gil agreed. He fell in beside her, and they ambled in the general direction of their lockers at a companionable pace. “I mean, so much happened at the dance. I guess I just… wanted to check? Make sure there wasn’t anything in particular bothering you about that? Besides the obvious, I mean?”

Anne frowned. That boy could dance around a subject like nobody’s business. What exactly was he…? In a flash, she suddenly got it. “Gilbert Blythe,” she said. “Do you mean to ask whether I’m upset because of _you?”_ She huffed and tossed her head slightly. “That’s rather presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”

“I--er--um.” Gil fumbled over his words for a moment--a rather _adorable_ moment--before he caught the gleam in Anne’s eye and realized she was teasing. “My most humble apologies,” he said, laying the formality in his tone on so thick that Anne had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from bursting out in laughter. “I’m deeply sorry for presuming so boldly.”

“Yeah, you’d _better_ be,” Anne shot back. “I can’t stand arrogant boys who think that everything is about them.”

Gil lowered his head penitently. “I will endeavor to be more worthy of your regard.”

And just like that, the mood between them went tense again. “Yes, well,” Anne said, stopping in front of her locker. “I’ll… keep you posted on the matter.”

“Right. Cool.” Gil looked as though he didn’t know whether to be relieved or even more anxious than before. “I’ll… see you next class, then?”

“Of course.”

\- - -

Coming into Art later that day, Anne found Cole in his usual spot, a slightly goofy grin plastered all over his face. “What’s got you looking so pleased with yourself?” she asked as she took her seat beside him.

“Teacher pulled me aside to talk before class,” he answered.

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s… not usually something to be pleased about.”

“It is when she wanted to talk about putting my clay figures from last unit out on display.”

Anne let out a highly audible squeal that made him flinch slightly. “Cole, that’s fantastic! I _told_ you they were brilliant!”

“Yes, yes, you’ve been filling your hype man duties very well,” he sighed, though the grin was still on his face. “Apparently the teacher agrees, and she thinks she’ll be able to get the display set up this weekend.”

Anne flung her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug; he let out another exasperated sigh, but returned the embrace with one arm. “So by next week, everybody in school will see what a brilliant artist you are,” Anne said, settling back into her spot.

Cole didn’t look especially thrilled. “It’s not like they haven’t all seen my art before,” he said. “I don’t know why it would make any more difference now.”

“And yet you were clearly grinning when I came in,” Anne said. “Come on, Cole, you can’t tell me you’re not happy to be recognized.”

Cole rolled his eyes. “So did I see you talking to Gil earlier?” he asked in lieu of replying.

Anne suddenly became extremely interested in retrieving her supplies from her bag. “We talk a lot,” she said, keeping her tone as light as she could. “We have a lot of classes together, after all.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, _don’t_ start,” Anne snapped. “I’m already putting up with all sorts of insinuations from Diana, not to mention that Ruby’s now apparently done a full one-eighty to thinking we should get together. And now you’re putting your oar in? Three on one isn’t fair.”

“Hey, you give me shit about my art, I give you shit about Gil. _There’s_ fair for you.” Cole’s eyes were glittering smugly. “But hey, you _can_ stop it at any time by stopping this weird dance you insist on doing, and admitting the _painfully_ obvious truth that you’re both attracted to each other.”

“You’re utterly incorrigible, Cole.”

“Only when it’s worth it.”

\- - -

Anne’s tension managed to simmer down as the week drew to a close and became the weekend, still with no sign of Trouncer being up to anything. Of course, that still didn’t mean she could let her guard down, but there was a comfort to the normal routines of her existence reasserting themselves. Walking home with Diana after school, chattering happily about everything _except_ Anne’s cape life. Homework. Training with Bash on Saturday evening, duly followed by dinner with him, Mary, baby Dellie, and Gil (and if Bash and Mary noticed this latest shift in the way Anne and Gil behaved around each other, they were discreet enough not to say anything, though Anne suspected that Bash was teasing Gil behind her back). Most of all, there was the daily comings and goings of Green Gables, Matthew and Marilla going about the house in their own particular ways which had become comfortably familiar to Anne with a speed that astonished her. Only, once or twice, Anne could swear she caught Marilla gazing at her with an oddly sad look in her eyes. She always looked away and found something else to occupy herself when she realized Anne had noticed, leaving Anne unsure as to whether she should speak up and inquire what was on her mind.

As a new week dawned, though, Anne reaffirmed to herself her determination to remain vigilant. Trouncer had lurked in hiding for more than a week before. If this week--this _entire_ week--passed without incident, then, maybe, she’d be able to relax and let herself breathe just a bit more.

Ironically enough, this focused vigilance may well have caused her to be blindsided by what _actually_ ended up happening.

It was about mid-week, with school fully in swing. Anne, Diana, and Cole were returning from lunch together, talking and laughing about everything and nothing as they often did, when Diana’s attention was suddenly pulled away from their conversation and down the hallway. “What’s going on there?” she asked, concerned. Anne followed her gaze down to see a knot of students gathered around something, their unintelligible murmuring carrying a distinctly shocked edge. Anne frowned. There was something about the particular spot where they were gathered--wasn’t that where--?

The crowd parted for them as they approached. The scene was an utter mess, overturned display platforms surrounded with scattered fragments of broken clay that made Anne’s heart sink into her toes.

Cole’s figures.

Someone had trashed the display, completely.

“Oh my god,” Diana breathed next to her.

“Who would do this?” Anne hissed, _sotto voce._ But it was a mindless question, automatic, with an obvious answer that sprang into Anne’s mind as she scanned the crowd. Sure enough, her eyes landed on the smug, self-satisfied face of Billy Andrews.

_“You,”_ she snarled at him, causing several students to look at him as well, and the few nearest him to back away warily at the sight of her glare.

For his part, Billy remained infuriatingly unflappable. “What about me?” he asked, still looking smug. He affected a dramatic look at the wreckage of the display. “Oh, man, that’s really bad luck. Somebody must’ve bumped it, or something.”

“This was _deliberate.”_ Anne took a step forward, and the students around Billy backed away even further.

Billy stood his ground. “You know, I think you might be right,” he sneered. “What if it was, though? I think it’s great that somebody knocked Picasso here down a peg. You know, show him he’s not so great just because he can make some dumb people out of clay--”

Anne’s blood was boiling at this point, and so she didn’t register the movement in her peripheral vision until Cole had collided with Billy, knocking him to the ground.

The hall erupted into cacophony, cries of alarm and denial and encouragement overlapping until they’d been muddled beyond any hope of comprehension. Underneath it all, Billy could be heard yelling in alarm and pain, punctuated by rhythmic grunts from Cole as he laid blow after blow after blow into him.

“Cole, _no!”_ Diana shrieked.

The world had suddenly gone odd and dreamlike. Anne stepped forward, unsure if she was going to try to pull Cole off of Billy or help him beat him up, and quite suddenly she found herself… somewhere else.

Two creatures moved through the vastness of interstellar space. On second thought, _creatures_ seemed insufficient for what Anne was looking at. _Beings,_ maybe. Or _entities._ They were engaged in a complicated dance, moving through past, present, and future simultaneously, their forms folded through higher dimensions in ways that defied Anne’s senses, and yet a part of her understood it perfectly. That same part of her was feeling an odd sense of _familiarity._ She’d seen this before, even though she couldn’t quite place where. Hadn’t she been alone, in despair, desperate…?

The entities were communicating.

They didn’t use words, but rather just kind of… _sent_ concepts at each other, in clipped, efficient bursts.

_Destination._

_Agreement._

_Trajectory._

_Agreement._

_What are they…?_ Anne asked herself, even as she felt a warm pulse of… recognition? Belonging? It felt like her powers nudging her, somehow.

Distantly, somebody was calling her name. _“Anne?! Anne!”_

The entities were planning, charting a course. And that course ended at a small, distant planet--

_“Anne!”_

Anne’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Diana’s voice. The sound of multiple people screaming crashed in on her awareness, making her head throb. “Diana--what--?” she mumbled incoherently. Hadn’t she just been looking at something? It was already fading away, like a strange dream.

“Anne, _Cole!”_

That brought Anne back to full awareness, and she sat up from where Diana had been cradling her in her lap, all traces of the vision forgotten. One voice stood out among all the other screams--Billy, now truly frantic with terror. Cole was no longer on top of him, though; he was sitting frozen a couple of meters away, watching, his face pale with shock. Instead, Billy was wrestling with--

What _was_ that?!

It was small, about the size of a wolverine, from what Anne could tell, but it was also comparably _vicious._ Anne could see the flash of claws as it lashed at Billy, struggling against his attempts to keep it at bay, and the bloody gashes along his arms indicated that it had successfully landed a few hits. The way this was going, it was only a matter of time before it managed to get at his throat, or somewhere else disastrously vulnerable.

Anne didn’t even think, she just moved. In one smooth motion, she pushed herself to her feet, strode forward, and transformed.

She barely even registered the fresh round of cries and exclamations that this triggered. With grim purpose, she reached out, extending her arms into tendrils that wrapped around the creature and pulled it from Billy’s grasp, lifting it high into the air where its short limbs couldn’t reach anything fleshy.

Billy was gawping openly at her, but she ignored him and turned her attention to Cole. He was staring back at her in shock, visibly tinted with outright fear. Her vision traveled down his body, stopping to rest on his left arm. The sleeve of his shirt had busted open, tearing as though his arm had spontaneously grown too large for it… or something inside had forced its way out.

The creature went still in her grip, then cracked and shifted as it abruptly began to crumble away into powder.

Oh no.

_“Cole…”_ she said, retracting her tendrils as the creature disintegrated completely.

That was enough to break through his shock, and he surged to his feet, sending startled students scattering in his wake as he fled down the hallway.

_“Cole, wait!”_ Anne blinked, reappearing in front of him, but he adjusted to her sudden appearance surprisingly well, ducking and weaving to push his way past her _(damn_ how insubstantial her transformed state was) and continuing his headlong dash away from her.

Anne let out a strangled scream of frustrated desperation. _“Will you please just_ ** _stop??”_** she called. _“Will you please just_ ** _listen_** _to me?!”_ She jumped in front of him again, and again he shoved past her; she turned and flicked a tendril out to catch him by the ankle but hesitated just a moment too long in doing so, lashing at empty air where his foot had been a moment before. Cole reached the main doors to the school and crashed through them with all the force his slight frame could muster.

_“Damn it all!”_ Anne screamed. _“Cole!_ **_Cole!!”_ ** She flickered again, jumping out to the school’s courtyard--and stopped, watching in horrified fascination as something massive and lumpy bulged against the back of Cole’s shirt. The sound of the garment tearing filled the air, and a blobby mass of flesh peeled away from Cole’s back like a glob of wet clay, resolving itself into a shape as it fell to the ground.

The resulting creature was enough like a horse to invite comparison, and enough unlike a horse to be unsettling. It lowered its head patiently as Cole fumbled at its neck; he was leaning against its bulk as he did so, as though he were suddenly having difficulty standing upright. Anne found herself unable to do anything but stare as he hauled himself up onto the horse-creature’s back, and then it took off, galloping away into the distance at a truly startling speed. Cole was gone.

Anne sank to her knees, sagging back into her human form, though whether she’d let go of the transformation, or it had let go of her, was hard to say. She stared after Cole long after he’d vanished from sight. Part of her brain was urging her to get back up, transform, go after him, but she was suddenly so, so very tired.

Somebody pulled gently at her arm.

“Come on,” Diana said softly. “Come on, Anne.” She lifted Anne to her feet. “There’s no way they’ll keep us in school after this. Let’s get home.”

“Cole,” Anne said. She couldn’t express the storm of emotions raging through her except by way of that single word.

Diana squeezed her arm reassuringly. “I know,” she said. “We won’t give up on him, okay? We’ll get home, regroup, and then figure out what to do next.”

Slowly, Anne let out a breath. “Okay,” she agreed.

Together, they turned, and together, they stopped short at the mass of students thronged around the front doors, staring openly at them.

At Anne.

There was Tillie, looking about ready to pass out--and there was Josie, looking surprised and vaguely outraged--Jane was nowhere in sight, she’d probably stayed with her brother--and _oh god,_ there was Gil, lips parted, looking slightly stunned, Anne couldn’t even bring herself to meet his eyes--

And there was Ruby, stepping forward from the crowd, looking not so much shocked as _starstruck._ “It was you,” she said in an awed whisper. “All this time, it was you.”

The urge to deny, to deflect, rose in Anne by sheer reflex--but how could she deny what they’d all plainly seen? “Yeah,” she sighed, shoulders sagging. “Yeah, it was me.”

“Wow,” Ruby breathed, and then quite suddenly she had her arms wrapped around Anne in a hug that was surprisingly pleasant for the few seconds before it became tight enough to be painful.

“Ruby--” Anne choked out.

“Right, sorry,” Ruby gasped, releasing her and stepping back. “Sorry, sorry--”

There was movement from the crowd as a few of the bolder students wandered forward. Gil was among them. Swallowing hard, Anne forced herself to look him in the eye. _Please don’t hate me._

To her surprise, his eyes seemed to answer hers. _I don’t._

Diana was pulling at her arm again. “Come on,” she whispered. “We should go.”

She was right, of course. This whole mess was going on the list of things to deal with once they’d had a chance to catch their breath--underneath figuring out what to do about Cole. Anne allowed herself to be led away. She caught snatches of muttered conversation from the other students as they faded into the distance.

“--knew it was supposed to be someone from our school, but I never actually--”

“--I mean, _her?_ Really?!”

“Makes a lot of sense, actually.” Gil’s voice. “If you think about it.”

“Diana sure doesn’t seem surprised,” a girl’s voice said.

“Well, of _course_ not,” Ruby replied. “If Anne was going to tell _anyone,_ she was going to tell _her.”_

“Everything’s going to change, isn’t it?” Anne murmured to Diana. “Nothing’s going to be the same after this.”

“No,” Diana agreed. “No, it isn’t.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally. Finally, *finally* I got this thing written. I can't even claim writer's block because this is a plot point that I've been planning from the fic's inception. No, it's just been a challenge to find the energy to focus on writing these days.
> 
> Hope everybody's hanging in there all right, and I'll see you all soon!


	13. Chapter 13

“Matthew, Marilla,” Anne said, not quite able to keep her voice from shaking. “There’s something I need to tell you both.”

She was standing in Green Gables’ living room, the two of them seated in front of her, Matthew’s expression openly confused and concerned, while Marilla’s was a blank mask. Diana was on the couch behind Anne, silently lending her strength. Anne didn’t know if she’d have been able to go through with this without that.

“It’s just--well, I think the whole town is going to know by the end of the day,” Anne went on, “and I’d rather you heard it from me. I’m--” The confession caught in her throat as she was seized by a fresh wave of panic. But this was out of her hands now. She no longer had control over  _ if _ they found out, only  _ how _ they found out. “I’m Will-o-Wisp.”

Matthew blinked rapidly at her, expression still confused. “Y… y’are?” he asked simply.

Anne nodded. “I am.”

“She is,” Marilla agreed.

Anne’s eyes widened. “Marilla…?”

“I’ve been wondering when you’d come around to telling us.” Marilla let out a sigh, unperturbed by the fact that everybody else in the room was staring at her in shock. “I suppose that I’m to blame for the fact that it’s taken so long, what with some of the things you’ve heard me say about capes around the house.” She rose to her feet, crossing over to Anne and placing a hand on either of her shoulders. “But I’m glad you have. Because now… now I can finally tell you that you’re a brave girl, one of the bravest that I’ve ever met. I’m proud of you, Anne. I  _ admire _ you.”

“Marilla…” Something wet was running down Anne’s cheek.

Matthew rose to his feet as well. “So… all that trouble, all that fighting that’s been going on… you’ve been mixed up in all that?”

“I mean… yeah.”

“I see.” The look of concern on Matthew’s face had only grown more profound. “Well, uh… this doesn’t change anything, Anne. About us wanting you around, I mean. If you were worried about that.”

Loath though she was to admit it, Anne  _ had _ been worried about that, and now something wet was running down her other cheek as well. “Th… thank you, Matthew.”

Matthew mumbled something incomprehensible but clearly affectionate, and he followed Marilla over to Anne, scooping up both of them into a warm, tight three-person hug.

“Well,” Marilla sighed, settling back as they released the embrace. “I daresay you’ll be wanting to go out after young Cole, now.”

Anne blinked. “You know?”

Marilla snorted. “I’m friends with Rachel Lynde. I know whenever a raccoon turns over somebody’s garbage.”

“He’s my  _ friend, _ Marilla, and he  _ needs  _ me--”

Marilla held up a hand. “I’m not going to stop you, Anne.”

“...oh.” Anne blinked again. “You’re not?”

“No. The situation being what it is… I think you may be the only one out of all of us who has a chance of reaching him.” Marilla gave her a long look. “I feel I should be… saying something here, giving you advice, but the truth is that you probably understand all this cape business much better than I do. So all I can say is… be careful, Anne. Be safe, and come back to us.”

“I don’t know much about this business either,” Matthew chimed in, “and I don’t know what I might be able to do for you, but… if there  _ is _ something that needs doing, Anne, I’m just a call away, you hear?”

“I do. Thank you.” Anne turned away from them towards the door; Diana rose from the couch as she did so. “Diana… I think it’s going to be better if I do this alone.”

“Anne--”

Anne shook her head. “I think he’ll be more willing to listen if it’s just me, at least for now. Please, trust me on this, Diana.”

“...okay.” Diana looked distinctly unhappy. “But you know I’m just a call away too, right?”

“Of course.” Anne smiled.

“Do you know how you’re even going to find him?” Marilla asked from behind her.

“Yeah,” Anne replied, nodding. “I have a pretty good guess as to where he is.”

- - -

The abandoned grain elevator loomed large above Anne, and she swallowed. It was dead silent, not a hint of movement, and yet the moment she had laid eyes on it, her certainty that Cole was here had doubled. It was an instinct, a crackle of nervous tension running up her spine. “Cole?” she called. “Cole! It’s me! I want to talk!”

Now there was movement. Something stirred in the shadows of one of the elevator’s gaping doorways--a squat, hunched form, distant and indistinct, but visibly inhuman. Anne fought down her trepidation and strode forward. She could have transformed to cross the distance in a split second, of course, but she hoped that if she remained human, Cole would more easily be able to trust that she wasn’t here to fight.

The shape moved away from the doorway as she approached, and she stepped in where it had been. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the gloom, and she gasped softly. The room was full of creatures--more than half a dozen, possibly even closer to a full dozen. The shape she’d seen earlier was an apelike thing with a head that jutted forward from its torso like a bulldog’s; it was sitting a few meters away, watching her with an unnatural stillness. Something with a halo of tendrils like an octopus’s arms was moving around unsteadily, using them as makeshift legs. A couple of small creatures--no taller than the length of Anne’s forearm--were crawling along the walls, using large, hooked claws to get purchase in the concrete. And there were more besides, as Anne’s mind reeled trying to take them all in; it was a collection that Dr. Moreau would’ve been proud of.

“Do you like them? I’ve been experimenting.” Cole was tucked away in a corner, sprawled against the horse-creature that he’d made his escape on earlier, which had laid down to serve as a makeshift backrest. His face was drawn and haggard, and his tight smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Claws and teeth and stuff are pretty straightforward, but I’m having trouble with anything more complicated with that. Tried making a couple with wings, but they couldn’t fly. I think I need to understand the anatomy better to make it work.”

“Cole…”

All pretense of smiling vanished. “Anne, if you’re here to tell me that everything’s going to be okay, then just shut up right now.”

“I’m here because I’m  _ worried _ about you!” Anne moved towards Cole; the various creatures surrounding them tracked her with their gazes but didn’t otherwise react.

He watched her as she approached and came to an uncertain stop in front of him. “Yeah, fine, I guess that makes sense,” he sighed. “Not every day you see your friend go completely psycho right in front of you, huh?”

“Don’t say that, Cole!”

“Why not? It’s only true.” He dropped his gaze away from hers. “I’m in complete control of them, you know? I mean, they seem to have enough autonomy that when I tell them to do something, they keep doing it until I tell them to stop, but otherwise… it’s not much different from moving a limb around.” A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “How do you like that? I get the power to  _ literally  _ make friends, from my own flesh, but in the end… it’s just more of me, and I’m more alone than ever.”

“Cole…”

“The point is,” Cole pressed on, “I could’ve stopped that thing from attacking Billy if I wanted to, but I didn’t. Deep down, I wanted to hurt him, as badly as I could. I... guess something heard that desire.”

Anne let out a heavy sigh, settling down to sit on the floor. “I don’t think I’m in a position to judge you for that,” she said. “Given the number of times I’ve been tempted to knock his block off myself.”

“You never used your powers on him, though.”

“Yeah, well…” She shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of time to get used to them. Even then, it’s only recently that I really got a handle on controlling them.” She fixed her eyes squarely on his face; he still wouldn’t look back at her. “Look, Cole, I get it. I remember the day I got my powers. It was one of the worst days of my life, and that’s… honestly saying a lot. I don’t know if it’s that way for everybody, but…” She shook her head. “I wasn’t my best self that day. Just like you’re not your best self today.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Cole snorted. “What do you want from me, Anne? I’ve already got blood on my hands.”

“Billy’ll recover.”

“Good for him.” Cole rolled his head around, still looking everywhere but in her eyes. “Doesn’t matter. I was already a freak, and now I’m a  _ dangerous _ freak. You don’t come back from that. This is it for me, Anne.”

_ “No, _ Cole! You still have a choice.”

“What  _ choice, _ Anne?!”  _ Now _ he was looking her in the eye, glaring. “Hell, if I’m unlucky, somebody’s already called the Protectorate on me. You think they’ll care  _ why _ I attacked an unpowered civilian?”

Anne tightened her jaw as she held his gaze. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither one willing to back down.

Finally, she said in a quiet voice, “If all the world hated you and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved of you and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Just… a quote from  _ Jane Eyre. _ It’s gotten me through some hard times. I just…” She shook her head again. “Cole MacKenzie, whatever your own conscience may say, you are not without friends.  _ I _ am your friend. I’m not going to give up on you so easily, so don’t you  _ dare _ try to push me away like--”

A noise in the distance, a rumble that made the ground beneath them tremble slightly. Anne sprang to her feet, while the creatures around them made noises of alarm and confusion that were eerily in sync with Cole’s. “What was that?” he asked.

“Oh no,” Anne groaned, stomach sinking. “Oh no no no  _ no, _ why  _ now--?!” _

“Ah,” Cole said. “It’s  _ her, _ isn’t it.” As Anne looked helplessly at him, he added, “Go on, Anne. Go be a hero. They need you.”

“I--” She bit back a scream of frustration. “You’d  _ better _ still be here when I get back,” she snapped. “We are  _ not _ done with this conversation!”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Sure.”

Anne transformed and flickered away in the direction of the noise.

- - -

It wasn’t hard to see where the trouble was--black smoke was pouring into the sky in a massive column, coming from somewhere downtown. Anne felt fear and anger ripple through her form as she chain-jumped towards the source. For all her callousness, Trouncer had  _ never _ caused this level of damage before. Something had changed, and distinctly for the worse. Anne only hoped she wasn’t going to be greeted on the scene by the sight of corpses.

Before, she’d balked at the idea of breaking Trouncer’s legs. Right now, it was feeling  _ incredibly _ tempting.

Downtown was a complete shambles, worse than it had been in any previous attack. Cars stood at awkward angles, their sides caved in where something had hit them with incredible force. Streetlights had been brought down all along the length of the street, some forcefully snapped, others warped and bent. The smoke was coming from the shattered windows of a corner store, thick and roiling--had Trouncer managed to light off a gas main, somehow? All around were the clamor and cries of people fleeing for their lives, calling out for those they’d been separated from in the confusion.

Anne flickered to a stop in the middle of the street. Trouncer was there, surveying the devastation contemplatively.

She wasn’t alone.

To one side of her stood a powerfully built woman with close-cropped hair, head and shoulders taller than her, with a casing of some sort of material covering her forearms up just past the elbows. To the other side stood a stooped, mousy man with a bedraggled set of stubble and a fauxhawk that terminated in a rat tail on the back of his head. He locked eyes with Anne as she was measuring up the trio, and quietly said something to Trouncer.

“At last,” Trouncer said, turning. “She arrives. Hello, Will-o-Wisp.”

_ “What the hell is all this, Trouncer?” _ Anne snarled, burying her uncertainty under a pile of righteous fury.

“This?” Trouncer looked around as though seeing the state of downtown for the first time. “Call it a reckoning, I guess. I know, I know--” something in Anne’s bearing must have betrayed her anger, because Trouncer put up her hands in response “--you told me to leave and never come back. Believe it or not, I was going to. That was a righteous beatdown you handed me, last time. It was stupid of me to ever think I could take you lightly.”

Anne said nothing, but her form flickered violently in agitation.

“But wouldn’t you know,” Trouncer continued, “by the time I made it to the mainland, I’d figured out… it’s just going to eat away at me for the rest of my life if I don’t really,  _ properly _ put you down. Just once, you know?” An unpleasant smile spread across her face. “You probably noticed that I brought a couple friends. If I can’t win a fair fight, might as well take the next best thing, right?”

The built woman let out a snort of laughter.

“Rhinohide,” Trouncer said, indicating her with one hand. “And the other one’s Spew.” Spew leered unpleasantly. “I figure it’s only polite to introduce you to the people who’ll be kicking your ass today. I’d offer you the chance to give up now, but honestly, that’s just not  _ satisfying--” _

Anne blinked forward, bringing herself into range to tendril-whip Trouncer full in the face. Trouncer rolled with the hit, laughing wildly as she backflipped away, once more out of reach. Before Anne could formulate a follow-up, Rhinohide charged her, living up to her name; Anne blinked sideways out of the way, lashing out at her in retaliation, but her tendrils cracked against something hard and unyielding. The material on Rhinohide’s arms had begun to shift and flow, riding up until it covered her shoulders and back. The pavement and bits of metal debris were being drawn up from the ground beneath her, condensing into a rough slurry that was forming the armor around her.

Anne had just enough time to think  _ Oh, that’s just unfair _ before Rhinohide snatched one of her tendrils out of the air and pulled her off her feet.

Fortunately (or, well, unfortunately), Trouncer had tried pulling a similar trick in one of their previous fights, and Anne had given some thought as to how to beat it. Fighting her instincts, she willed her form to  _ relax _ as much as it possibly could. Her humanoid shape wobbled and flowed, until she resembled a particularly viscous puddle of water more so than anything especially solid. Rhinohide’s flailing failed to accomplish much more than sliding her around in this state, and as she fumbled in confusion, Anne’s tendril flowed out of her grip.

Before she could pull herself together, something painfully hot grazed her edges, a searing pain accompanied by splattering pinpricks along her surface. Yelping, she blinked away from the hot thing on blind instinct, recovering herself several meters away. A blob of some kind of sludge, glowing a dull orange, rested where she had been moments ago. Her gaze flickered over to Spewer, who winked at her before opening his mouth up as wide as it would go. Another glob of glowing orange sludge welled up from his throat and shot out of his mouth with improbable force, like… well, there weren’t any especially delicate analogies for that.

So that was why he was called ‘Spewer’.

Ew.

Anne flickered out of the way of the second glob, which sizzled as it splashed across the pavement in her wake. 

Something moved overhead in her peripheral vision; before she could react, Trouncer slammed into the ground behind her. The blast knocked Anne forward off her feet, and she shifted and flowed to keep herself from falling flat. She turned to counterattack Trouncer, but there was a flash of orange in the corner of her eye and she aborted the attack to flicker out of the way of another of Spewer’s blobs. She turned her attention back around to him, but Trouncer was flying at her again, requiring another flickering dodge. Unfortunately, she wasn’t paying sufficient attention to her destination and reappeared next to Rhinohide, who took the opportunity to lunge at her, swinging a fist that was increasingly resembling a wrecking ball. The blow caught Anne full in the face, knocking her head off her shoulders like a tetherball.

She blinked away in retreat, reappearing on top of a building, hoping for a moment to regain her bearings--no, Trouncer had spotted her and taken a great bounding leap at her. Anne blinked a couple meters backwards and flailed with her tendrils to force her adversary to back off, but Trouncer was already dropping back down to the street, and a volley of Spewer’s blobs was falling on her like incoming artillery.

Trouncer had planned this scenario well, Anne reflected furiously as she wove between the burning lumps. Anne might have the advantage in mobility, but the three of them could mount enough pressure to keep her locked on the defensive, and eventually she’d slip up and make a mistake that they could exploit--

Her train of thought was derailed by a cry from the street below.

She looked down over the edge of the room. Something had drawn the trio’s attention away from her. Spewer was clutching at the side of his head; something seemed to have struck him, hard enough that blood was seeping between his fingers. He was snarling in the direction that the offending projectile, and Anne followed his gaze to--

_ “No,” _ she said aloud.  _ “No no no no no no--!” _

Gil had a rock in his hand, standing tense with the recognition that it wasn’t nearly enough to face down the attention he’d just drawn to himself. He wasn’t alone either--he was at the head of a small knot of people that were occupying the mouth of a cross street. Anne saw Bash among them, and Ruby, along with a couple others that she vaguely recognized. 

“Leave her alone,” Gil shouted, with impressive confidence given how deep in he was at the moment. “Leave all of us alone! Just go and get out of here!”

“Yeah,” Bash added, hefting a rock of his own. “Go rob a big-city bank, or whatever it is you supervillain types do.”

Trouncer let out a short laugh; she and Rhinohide were just staring in amazed amusement at the crowd confronting them. Spewer, on the other hand…

In a panic, Anne blinked down and grabbed at Spewer’s head, wrenching it to the side just as he stretched his mouth open. The shot went wide, splattering against the side of the building, drawing a few panicked noises from the ground as hot droplets rained down on them. Anne kept pulling, taking Spewer off his feet and sending him down to the ground with a pained grunt.

The noise drew Rhinohide and Trouncer’s attention, but the moment they turned towards Anne, the crowd took it as a cue to start throwing their various improvised missiles. Trouncer took a couple of hops to dodge, while Rhinohide simply allowed them to clatter off of her armor, turning back towards the crowd with an irritated snarl.

Anne blinked forward as Rhinohide charged and the crowd scattered. She snagged Rhinohide with her tendrils, but the villain’s charge continued uninterrupted, dragging Anne along behind her. Thinking quickly, Anne surged herself forward in a wave, deforming herself to wrap her form into a ball around Rhinohide’s head.

_ That _ got a reaction. Rhinohide broke off her charge and began swinging her armored fists at Anne, who had little time to appreciate the hilarity of the villain punching herself in the head as they hammered into her, sending that weird electric-shock tingle through her form. She found herself wondering if the substance she transformed into was breathable or if Rhinohide was currently suffocating. Deciding that that was something to test under better circumstances, she gathered her mass in front of Rhinohide’s face and pushed off, flying forward at the same time that she sent the villain stumbling backward. Anne hit the ground as a blob and sprang back up into humanoid shape.

Gil was standing in front of her.

“Anne--” he started to say.

_ “You--” _ she snapped. She wasn’t sure what the next word was going to be.  _ Idiot? Heroic fool? _

“Anne!” Bash’s voice, not Gil’s, and he was pointing up and behind her. 

Anne whirled to see Trouncer sailing through the air at them. She froze, losing precious moments to indecision. If she dodged, Trouncer’s shockwave would hit the people behind her, injuring them at the very least.  _ “Run--!” _ she started to yell, as she gathered herself to leap to meet Trouncer’s attack.

Something else met it first.

A hulking, apelike shape collided with Trouncer in midair, causing her to yelp with alarm. It tackled her to the ground, holding her pinned against the ground as she cursed furiously at it. Nor was she the only one having trouble; Anne saw Spewer scrambling on all fours to get away from a series of grasping tendrils, and Rhinohide was trying to smack away a pair of hook-clawed gremlins that were clambering all over her.

“Anne…” A hand grasped at her, fumbling awkwardly as her shoulder squished and deformed beneath it. She turned around to meet Gil’s eyes. “Anne, are you…?”

_ “Are you out of your mind?!” _ she demanded.

“I, uh.” He blinked, taken aback. “What?”

_ “Do you know?!”  _ Anne snapped.  _ “Do you know what the survival rate is for civilians who try to fight capes?” _

“Um.” Gil blinked again, swallowed. “...no?”

Anne fumbled mentally, suddenly aware of the rhetorical trap she’d just backed herself into.  _ “Well… I don’t either,” _ she admitted.  _ “But after this is over, I’m asking Diana so that I can yell at you about it.” _

He let out a soft breath of laughter, lips quirking up into a smile. “Yeah… okay,” he said. “I’m going to hold you to that. Come find me after all this is over… so that you can yell at me, I mean. Promise?”

Anne rippled slightly.  _ “...promise,” _ she agreed.  _ “Now get out of here, Gil. Find somewhere safe. Please.” _

“Don’t worry, Anne.” Bash was grinning at her over Gil’s shoulder. “I’ve got some experience keeping him out of trouble. I’ll make sure he stays in one piece for you.”

_ “Bash--” _

He held up a hand to stop her. “We’ve got a lot to talk about and not enough time right now,” he said. “You’ve got some villains to show the error of their ways here. Make ‘em regret that they ever decided to mess with Avonlea.”

Anne nodded.  _ “That’s the plan.” _

Ruby opened her mouth, then closed it again, blinking her large blue eyes. “Be safe, Anne,” she finally said in a quiet voice.

Anne continued watching as they departed with the remainder of the crowd that hadn’t fled already. Gil stopped once to look back at Anne. Once they’d gotten a comfortable distance away, Anne turned back to the scene on the street. Trouncer, Spewer, and Rhinohide were all still occupied with their assailants. Anne flickered, reappearing in front of the newest arrival.

_ “I can’t even begin to express how happy I am to see you right now,” _ she said to Cole.

He smiled at her from his perch on his horse-creature; it was still wan but this one decidedly reached his eyes. “I mean, you’re my friend,” he said. “Whatever else happens, I’m not going to let my friend put herself on the line alone. Not when I have the power to help.” He drew in a sharp breath, lifting his gaze up and past Anne. “Speaking of--heads up.”

Rhinohide, having apparently managed to deal with the two creatures crawling on her, had intervened to help her compatriots; the ape-thing and octopus-thing were loping back over to regroup with Anne and Cole, while the villains regrouped on the other end of the street. Trouncer was glaring at the two of them and positively seething.

“That figures,” she hissed. “No matter what I try, you’ve always got another trick up your sleeve, haven’t you? You little  _ bitch.” _

Anne sighed.  _ “You’re a real piece of work, Trouncer.” _

“So how exactly does this work?” Cole murmured to her.

_ “Think fast and don’t die,” _ she murmured back.

“Ah,” he said. “Wonderful.”

The stillness was shattered by Spewer loudly hocking a glob in their direction. As if that had been a starting pistol, Rhinohide broke into a headlong charge at them, sparks flying as her armored feet scraped along the pavement. The heroes burst into motion in response, Anne flickering left and Cole riding right, while an unseen signal from him directed the ape-thing and octopus-thing to intercept Rhinohide. The ape-thing moved in first, colliding heavily with her; Anne winced slightly, swearing she could hear the  _ crack _ of bones fracturing from the impact, but the ape-thing showed no sign of pain, wrapping Rhinohide up in a bear hug while the octopus thing vaulted up its back and over its head to begin wrapping her in its tendrils.

Seeing that situation well in hand, Anne went for Spewer, blinking directly in front of him and opening with a point-blank whip to the face. He cried out in pain, and while he was still reeling, she melted herself into formlessness, sliding between his feet as a luminous mass before reforming herself behind him and wrapping two tendrils around his shoulders and neck in a boneless full nelson. He snarled and struggled to crane his head around; she in turn moved carefully to ensure he couldn’t point his mouth in her direction.

“Anne!” she heard Cole call. “Facedown!”

She sprouted two more tendrils from her midsection, wrapping one around each of Spewer’s angles. Leverage was on her side; she yanked back on his ankles while simultaneously shoving his shoulders forward, and he obligingly performed a faceplant with a pained grunt.

There was a clattering behind her; Cole slid off the horse thing and stepped forward, one hand extended. Its flesh bulged grotesquely, shooting out a large wad that formed midair into something shaped vaguely like a large starfish, save that each arm terminated in a wicked, hooked claw. The starfish-thing draped itself over the back of Spewer’s head, gripping into the pavement with its claws, and he struggled uselessly against it, unable to use his power without getting a faceful of it himself.

“That ought to hold him,” Cole said with a weak smile at Anne.

Any response she might have had was precluded by a flicker of movement overhead.  _ “Look out!” _ she called, leaping to grab Cole and pull him away with all her might. Trouncer had been hanging back, waiting for an opening, and had apparently seen one.

The blast sent them both flying; Anne shifted her shape midair, hitting the ground as a rolling blob until she could regain her footing.  _ “Cole!” _ she shrieked.

He’d been sent tumbling as well, but even as Trouncer let out a triumphant cackle, he righted himself and held both arms out towards her, the flesh on his hands already bulging and warping. Two small creatures like gremlins shot out towards Trouncer with high-pitched squeals, and she yelped as they latched onto her, clawing and biting. “I’m fine,” he panted, though he didn’t  _ look _ fine, with blood dripping from multiple scrapes on his face and torso. “Seems like I can kind of… harden myself a bit, take hits that’d mess me up otherwise. Interesting.” He sagged forward, catching himself on his hands.

_ “Cole--?!” _

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “Making things… takes a bit out of me. I had a breather before, but…”

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by the ape-thing landing a couple of meters away from them with an unpleasant  _ squelch. _ It let out a pained gurgle. Cole grunted in annoyance, and it went still and began to crumble away into powder. Rhinohide had managed to get the upper hand in her struggle, and was currently engaged in systematically prying an increasingly desperate octopus-thing’s tendrils off of her.

_ “Can you make something to take her?” _ Anne asked in a low voice.  _ “Something big?” _

Cole shook his head. “Bad idea. The bigger it is, the more it takes out of me.”

_ “I see. Small and vicious, then, like that thing you sicced on Billy.” _ Cole grimaced, but there was no time to dwell on it.  _ “Keep pressure on Trouncer. Get back on your horse-thing, stay mobile. I’ll see if I can figure out how to handle Rhinohide.” _

“‘Horse-thing,’” Cole muttered to himself, but he did as she said.

Anne turned her attention to Rhinohide, who was still in the midst of dealing with the octopus-thing. Power to power, it wasn’t a great matchup; despite her versatility, Anne’s hits didn’t have a lot of stopping power, and Rhinohide could weather blows like… well, a rhino. Still, better her than inexperienced, exhausted Cole. She’d figure something out.

She always did.

Anne blinked forward and lunged for Rhinohide, flowing into a long snakelike form and coiling herself around the villain’s torso. Taken aback by the sudden assault, Rhinohide paused in her attempts to pry the octopus-thing off of her, and it dutifully set about re-grappling her. Anne decided to take a cue from it, flowing up towards Rhinohide’s neck, only to flow away again as Rhinohide batted at her on reflex, repositioning herself so that she was coiled around her shoulder and arm. Could she get her to punch herself in the head and knock herself out? That seemed… too cartoonish to actually work. Anne slithered another attempt to grab at her. Wrapping herself around Rhinohide’s head had gotten a panicked reaction before, but Anne didn’t know if she could actually leverage that into a fight-ending advantage. Maybe she’d be better off playing defensive, helping the octopus-thing keep Rhinohide busy until Cole could deal with Trouncer and come assist--

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a massive blast.

The horse-thing tumbled through the air, landing on the pavement in a heap. Cole was facedown on the ground, having been knocked off its back; he groaned, fumbling, but couldn’t push himself back up before Trouncer stalked up behind him and planted a knee between his shoulder blades, forcing him back down. “Rhinohide!” she called, looking up with a cold gleam in her eye.  _ “Mash him.” _

_ “No!” _ Anne screamed as Rhinohide took off. She pulled desperately at Rhinohide’s arm, extending tendrils down to try and find purchase on the ground, but there was nothing to grip, no leverage to be had, nothing she could do to stop it.

Rhinohide’s armored fist swung and connected with a wall of light.

The battlefield froze as all of the combatants took a stunned moment to absorb what had just happened. A luminous blue barrier, shaped roughly like a heater shield, had sprung into existence in front of Rhinohide, intercepting her blow. Anne could just barely make out what seemed to be a fist-sized spherical machine centered behind it, apparently projecting the barrier as it hovered in midair. 

A light electrical buzzing filled the air, and a half-dozen more of the round drones glided into view, taking up a loose perimeter around the four of them. And from behind, a deeper, more robust buzzing, accompanied by the scrape of metal on pavement--

Anne looked in the direction of the sound. Some sort of advanced-looking hovercraft, roughly the size of a semitruck, had touched down on the street. A series of panels on either side slid open, allowing six figures to disembark with easy precision, three to a side. The four rearmost figures were wearing some kind of dark-colored tactical gear, but the two at the head of each column were wearing costumes: one, a fair-skinned man, in a charcoal grey capelet and bodysuit striped along the sides in red, yellow, and blue, and the other, a dark-skinned woman, decked out in sleek white armor with a blue visor covering her eyes.

If Anne had been in the form where she had a heart, it would’ve skipped a beat.  _ Triple Threat and Dynamo. _

The Halifax Protectorate had arrived on the scene.

“Oh  _ shit,” _ Trouncer hissed, and the exclamation snapped them all back to their senses. Trouncer sprang to her feet, releasing Cole, and took a bounding leap away. Anne relinquished her grip on Rhinohide, sliding down to the ground and slithering over to reform next to Cole. He looked up at her, grinning weakly, and she gave him a relieved smile in return.

Rhinohide let out a cry and charged at the newly arrived Protectorate forces as Trouncer called  _ “No, you idiot!” _ after her. Triple Threat glanced at Dynamo, who merely shrugged; returning his attention to the oncoming Rhinohide, he folded his hands in front of him, assuming an attitude of concentration as a soft glow sketched itself around his outline, lasting for only a few seconds before it faded away and he stepped forward to meet his attacker. Rhinohide threw a punch which he caught with contemptuous ease. She hesitated, caught off-guard by no longer being the heaviest hitter on the field, and he capitalized by catching her under the armpits and lifting her bodily off the ground, tossing her armored form away as easily as though she were a scarecrow stuffed with straw. Even as he did so, two of the tactical suits stepped forward, leveling what looked like some sort of large spray guns--and turned out to actually be large spray guns, emitting a stream of some kind of yellowy-white fluid that expanded rapidly into foam on contact with the air. Rhinohide was doused with the stuff as she clattered to the ground; whatever it was, it seemed to be thick and rubbery, and within moments she was buried enough that she couldn’t move.

“Damn it,” Trouncer spat, and Anne spun to look at where she was standing several meters away.  _ “Damn _ it. I give. You win, Princess. I’m getting out of here, I’m not about to tangle with-- _ gah!”  _ This last outburst was in response to one of the sphere drones sliding in close and shocking her with a crackle of electricity. Trouncer bounded away in response, launching herself into the air, but Dynamo gestured lazily with one hand and another drone projected an energy shield into Trouncer’s path, sending her tumbling as it knocked her off her axis. There was a flash of grey as Triple Threat lifted off his feet and flew at her, catching her by the arm and spinning her down to the ground, where she too was sprayed down with the rubbery foam.

_ It’s over. _

The thought crashed over Anne in a heavy wave of weariness, and she sagged, letting herself sink back down into her normal human form. Beside her, Cole pulled himself up into a crosslegged sitting position. She leaned her head against his shoulder and he slipped an arm around her back. Together, they watched as the tactical suits moved in to handle Rhinohide and Trouncer, two to each villain. Triple Threat, meanwhile, was attending to Spewer, who was still trapped under the starfish-thing.

Anne and Cole weren’t going entirely unnoticed, though.

Dynamo walked towards them, tossing out a friendly wave and a smile as she approached. “Hello, there!” she called. “And who might you two be?”

“Oh! Um.” Anne felt her heart leap into her throat. “I’m A--I mean, Will-o-Wisp. Ma’am.”

Cole coughed awkwardly. “I’m, um.. I’m Cole.”

“Will-o-Wisp and… Cole.” Dynamo nodded. “Glad to meet you both. We’ve got quite a bit to talk about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one took a while to get through. I hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> Here we are at our climax, folks. Just the denouement to go, and then that'll be the end... or will it be? See you in the notes for the next chapter ;)


	14. Chapter 14

Anne shifted uncomfortably in the hard plastic seat, staring down at the surface of the table in front of her. The silence of the empty room around her pressed in like the crushing depths of the ocean. For all the different varieties of trouble that she’d gotten into over the course of her life, this was her first time getting pulled into a police interview room.

Of course, given that the station had been commandeered, it wasn’t the  _ police _ that she’d be in trouble with. Given that it was the Protectorate running the show, though, she found that that particular distinction didn’t bring her much comfort.

Just when the silence was becoming unbearable, the door opened with a soft  _ click. _ An overlapping murmur of voices poured in as Dynamo and Triple Threat walked in, then faded again as they shut the door behind them. Dynamo took a seat at the table opposite Anne, while Triple Threat took up a position leaning against the wall. “Anne Shirley, alias Will-o-Wisp?” Dynamo asked in a tone that made it clear the question was purely perfunctory.

Anne opened her mouth to respond, but only a small, timid sound came out. Face heating, she cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes, er, yes ma’am. That’s me.”

“You’re not in trouble,” Dynamo said with a slight smile.

“Oh,” Anne said simply. Come to think of it, that made sense. After all, she’d only been protecting the town, hadn’t she?

“I say this because we’ve been approached by a number of people who were very concerned that you might be, and very keen to impress on us that you’ve done nothing wrong,” Dynamo continued, accompanied by a soft, amused snort from Triple Threat. “Including your guardians, who, by the way, are here waiting to see you once we’ve finished.”

“Matthew and Marilla?” Anne asked, her heart lifting.

Dynamo nodded. “They seem to be deeply concerned for your well-being. Are they taking good care of you?”

“Well, it’s not like it’s always been smooth sailing, but… this is by far the happiest home I’ve ever been in.”

“That’s good.” Dynamo sighed. “It’s… not something we always see, in the individuals that we deal with.”

Anne’s face fell. “Like Trouncer.”

Dynamo nodded.

“What’s going to happen to her?”

“She’ll be going to prison, obviously,” Triple Threat said, speaking for the first time. “Though she’s a petty enough crook that she’ll probably dodge the Birdcage--not enough crimes under her belt to qualify for supermax under the three strikes act. So she’ll get stuck in a lesser jail which in all likelihood won’t be up to the task of containing her, and--”

“Triple-T,” Dynamo said in a warning tone, shooting him a glance over her shoulder.

“And the other two--Rhinohide and Spewer? The same?” Anne asked. Triple Threat nodded, once. “And…” Anne’s stomach clenched. “And what about Cole?”

“Yes. Well.” Dynamo gave Triple Threat another significant look. “How to deal with Mr. Mackenzie has been a matter of some… discussion between us already.”

“What  _ discussion?!” _ Anne shot to her feet and slammed her hands down on the table with enough speed that the two heroes started slightly. “They would’ve wiped the floor with me if he hadn’t been there to help! He saved the town, every bit as much as I did!”

“He’s also guilty of aggravated assault with a parahuman power,” Triple Threat replied coldly.

“That’s not  _ fair.” _ Some doggedly rational part of Anne’s mind pointed out that she was currently attempting to stare down a man who could caber-toss semitrucks, but the burning in her heart propelled her heedlessly onward. “You can’t just--just write him off like that, without giving him a chance. He’s never been given a chance! People decided that he was a… a  _ freak, _ a  _ weirdo, _ and they turned away without looking to see what he brings to the world! And he brings…” Anne’s gaze dropped down to the table, watching the knuckles on her hands turn white. “He brings so much.” 

“...like I said.” Anne looked back up; Dynamo had turned in her seat and was looking at Triple Threat with  _ I told you so _ written all over her face.

He scowled slightly. “I’ve made my feelings on the matter clear.”

“You have,” Dynamo agreed. “And I reiterate that we need every single cape that we can get on our side. New villains every week, the Slaughterhouse Nine, the Endbringers… you know what it’s like out there, T. I can’t promise that this kid will stay on the straight and narrow, but I  _ do _ know that if we come down hard on him now, we’ll lose that chance forever.”

“Hm.” Triple Threat’s lips pinched thoughtfully. “I suppose, in the grand scheme of things, lashing out at a schoolyard bully is far from the worst of crimes…”

“And it was during his trigger event,” Dynamo added. “I remember what that was like for me. Don’t you?”

A shadow passed over Triple Threat’s face, gone almost as soon as it had appeared. “A candidate for the Wards, then,” he said. “We can keep an eye on him that way. And it’ll relocate him away from here, and whatever bad blood may remain.”

“...the Wards?” Anne asked, frowning.

“Our junior team,” Dynamo explained, turning back to her. “Enough capes trigger in their teenage years that we find it best to maintain a group where they can benefit from the Protectorate’s guidance and resources. Not to mention that it gives us a recruiting pool of experienced capes for the Protectorate, once they come of age.”

“Which brings us around to what we wanted to talk to you about,” Triple Threat added.

Anne gave him a deer-in-headlights blink. “Huh?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re clearly Wards material yourself.”

“We’ve been keeping an eye on the situation out here,” Dynamo said, seeing Anne gaping. “You’ve held your own in repeated conflicts with a cape more experienced and aggressive than yourself. You’ve demonstrated bravery, resourcefulness, and a drive to protect those around you.”

“Joining the Wards would give you a chance to nurture all of those qualities,” Triple Threat said. “You’d be seasoning yourself as a hero, getting experience where the action is.”

“I--I--I--” Anne’s brain was jamming, failing to form words.

Dynamo held up a hand to quiet her verbal stumbling. “I understand if you want to stay here,” she said. “You’ve found a home with people you can rely on, and that’s no small thing for someone of your background. But…” She leaned forward, folding her hands underneath her chin, looking Anne in the eye. “You could do a lot of good in the world this way, Anne. I believe that, I really do.”

Anne stared back at her, and the wheels began to turn in her head.

- - -

“Anne!” Marilla shot to her feet, closely followed by Matthew, as Anne exited the interview room.

“Marilla! Matthew!” Anne ran to them, ignoring the attention that the scene was drawing from the various others arrayed around the lobby of the police station. Marilla caught her in a tight hug, and Matthew stepped forward to join them, the three of them all holding each other in a group embrace for several moments.

“Everything’s all right, then?” Marilla asked. The question wasn’t directed at Anne, but rather at Dynamo, who was approaching the group behind her.

“Perfectly fine,” Dynamo replied breezily. “That’s quite a young woman you’ve got there. You must be proud of her.”

“I am, though I can’t claim credit for it. I’ve barely done anything for her.”

“You’ve done  _ plenty,” _ Anne retorted. “You can get  _ some _ credit.” She gave Marilla a final squeeze before letting her go.

“If you say so,” Marilla said, a smile in her voice. “Come on, then. Let’s get you home.”

The word  _ home _ sent Anne’s guts wobbling unpleasantly, and it must’ve shown on her face, because Matthew and Marilla’s expressions were instantly concerned. “Something wrong, Anne?” Matthew asked.

“It’s, um--” Anne had rehearsed what she was going to say before coming out, but she found that it had all fled her mind, the words tangling themselves up in her throat so that she couldn’t get them out. “I’m--I mean, there’s--I need to--I don’t--”

A warm, firm hand landed on her shoulder. Dynamo’s. “What Anne is trying to tell you,” she said gently, “is that we’ve invited her to join the Wards team in Halifax, and she’s decided to accept.”

The looks on Matthew and Marilla’s faces were like a cold spear through Anne’s heart.

“Halifax,” Marilla breathed, trying to collect herself. “My, that’s…”

“I don’t  _ want  _ to go!” Anne burst out. “I mean, I  _ do, _ but I don’t want to  _ leave, _ I’ve been so happy here, I’ve been so happy with  _ you, _ I’ve never,  _ never _ had anything as wonderful as this in my whole life before, but I--” Dynamo’s hand on her shoulder squeezed, reminding her to stop and take a breath. “She--Dynamo--she said this was a chance to do some good in the world,” Anne continued, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “And I want to take that chance. I want to do good.”

“By her own account, her living situation with you is the first stable, happy one she’s had since entering the foster care system,” Dynamo said, filling in the silence as Matthew and Marilla stared at Anne. “I don’t think, at her age, it’s a good idea to snatch that away so suddenly. My thought was that she could finish out the school year up here, then relocate to Halifax over the following summer. Assuming that you’re willing to continue hosting her for that time, of course.”

“Well--of course!” Matthew said. “Of course, we’d be glad to have her for, uh, for as long as she wants to stay with us. And, um, Anne,” he turned his head to look her in the eye, “even when you, um, leave, you’re welcome to come back and visit us whenever you’d like to--isn’t she, Marilla?”

“Yes,” Marilla said, suddenly, as though startled out of deep thinking. “Yes, of course she is. We would be glad to…” She trailed off, and Anne swallowed hard, not able to identify the look in her eyes. “I had a thought,” she said. “Something I was thinking about anyway… well, perhaps it’s just me being silly, but…”

“What is it, Marilla?” Anne asked softly.

“Oh, I was just thinking… what if the two of us applied to become your legal guardians? Permanent legal guardians, I mean.”

Anne’s mind went blank. She felt like she was suddenly hovering a foot off the floor.

“I’m sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, Matthew,” Marilla added. “I did mean to talk to you about it before bringing it up to Anne, but I daresay--”

“I’m for it,” Matthew said firmly.

“Well, then.” Marilla smiled, but it was tense and uncertain. “What do you say, then, Anne?”

Anne’s voice was gone, her tongue frozen. One word. All she had to say was  _ one word-- _

“Anne…?”

_ “Yes!” _ Anne burst out, and the word shattered the spell that was holding her in place; she plunged forward, back into Marilla’s arms, burying her face in her breast as tears began to spill freely from her eyes and sobs wrenched themselves free from her throat.

“Oh, goodness…” Marilla patted her softly on the back. “I don’t know what all’s involved with the paperwork for it, but…”

“I can help you out with that,” Dynamo interjected. “Pull a few strings, make sure it’s as straightforward as it can be.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s very kind of you, Miss Dynamo,” Matthew said.

“It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement,” Dynamo said. “Anne having legal guardians rather than being a ward of the state makes certain things easier to deal with on our end. And it’s clear that having you as a stable presence in her life will benefit her, too.”

“Well,” Marilla said. Anne pulled away from her breast, and Marilla held her at arm’s length, smiling at her. “That’s that, then.”

“Yes,” Anne agreed through a faceful of tears, voice hoarse. “That’s that.”

- - -

“Anne!”

Anne paused at the top of the stairs, momentarily taken aback as the sound of Diana calling her name caused the sea of faces to turn towards her. Not only was Green Gables packed with people--all more or less familiar--but the crowd spilled out into the front yard and on into the Barrys’ and Lyndes’ yards as well. The number of people wasn’t what was causing a moment of dizzying disorientation for Anne, though.

No, it was the knowledge that all those people were here for  _ her. _

More than half a year had elapsed since her identity had become public knowledge, at least within Avonlea (the Protectorate had been working to keep it from leaking further than that, with the acknowledgement that it was a genie that was hard to put back in the bottle), and Anne still hadn’t gotten used to being a household name in the little town. Not as the strange red-headed girl from the mainland, nor as the Cuthbert’s charity case, but as Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, alias Will-o-Wisp, Avonlea’s hometown hero.

Diana worked herself free of the crowd so she could rush to meet Anne at the bottom of the stairs, catching her in a tight embrace. “You look  _ wonderful,  _ Anne,” Diana said in her ear.

“And who do you think deserves credit for that?” Anne laughed. She was wearing the nicest dress that she owned, which was to say, the one Diana had helped her pick out for the barn dance.

“You do, for being so naturally radiant,” Diana replied primly. Anne blushed furiously, and Diana grabbed her hand, leading her into the press of people. “Make way, make way!” she called. “I dare say our Anne deserves to sample the food at her own going-away party!”

With laughter and agreeable chatter, the crowd parted as best it could to allow the two girls passage. Diana maneuvered Anne over to a folding table that had been set up in what was normally the living room and loaded down with a staggering array of food.

“Bash!” Anne called, seeing the familiar figure tucked away beside the table with Mary at his side.  _ “Please _ tell me you’ve brought some of your incredible cuisine tonight.”

“Of course I’m going to feed you the good stuff while I’ve still got the chance!” Bash shot back with a wide grin. “But you’ll be trying Mary’s cake first.” He pressed a paper plate with a neat, triangular slice of cake on it into Anne’s hands.

Anne accepted the plate with a raised eyebrow. “Is that an order?”

“Bash…” Mary sighed, smacking him lightly on the arm to chide him. “It’s my special recipe, Anne. I hope you like it.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Anne put a forkful of the cake into her mouth with indelicate eagerness, then paused for a moment as the taste washed over her tongue, a small groan escaping her lips. “Oh, Mary, I can die and go to heaven now,” she sighed.

“Please don’t,” Mary grinned. “Gil would get mad at me.”

Anne polished off the cake faster than she should’ve, then moved on to the savory fare, loading down her plate with a little bit of everything that caught her eye. Diana took her by the crook of the arm as she ate, gently guiding her through the crowd as they circulated, Anne mumbling appropriate responses as the people she passed greeted her with thanks and congratulations. Trusting in her friend’s finely tuned social instincts, Anne let herself be led aimlessly on the currents of the crowd until the two of them finally came to a halt in front of a pair of well-known faces.

“Ruby, Tillie!” she said, her tone brightening. “Thanks for being here.”

Ruby huffed a little bit. “As though we’d miss it!” she said matter-of-factly.

“It  _ is _ our last chance to see you for a while, after all,” Tillie agreed. “Josie’s here too, somewhere. And Jane.” Seeing Anne raise an eyebrow, she added, “But don’t worry about Billy. He’s making himself scarce, I’m pretty sure.”

“Good,” Anne said vehemently. In point of fact, he’d generally been making himself scarce ever since Cole’s trigger event, which was just fine with her. “I’m going to be counting on all of you to keep him in line while I’m away.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Tillie said. “Jane’s  _ very _ enthusiastic about making him not be an asshole.”

“Are you nervous, Anne?” Ruby asked. “I mean, moving to a new city, going to a new school all over again, and… well, all of that?”

Anne shrugged, swallowing down a mouthful of food. “I’ve lived in a bunch of different cities, so one more new one isn’t going to be a huge deal. And I’ll have Cole at Wallace High; he says it’s been going really well for him so far, so I’m hopeful. I think that things are going to work out just fine.”

“Oh. I see.” Ruby nodded slowly. “That’s… good…” All of a sudden, her lip was trembling as tears poured down her face.

“Ruby!” Anne rushed forward; she felt the plate of food leave her hand as Diana snatched it away so that she could pull Ruby into a two-armed hug. “Oh, Ruby--”

“I’m going to miss you  _ so much,” _ Ruby sniffled. “Things are going to be so  _ boring _ without you around… oh, Anne, you promise you’ll come back and visit?”

“As often as I can,” Anne promised. “A couple of times a month at least, more often if I can make it work. And Ruby, why don’t you visit  _ me _ sometime? You can come down to Halifax, and I can show you… well, everything that I’m allowed to show you.”

Ruby snuggled into her just a little more. “That sounds nice.”

Anne let Ruby cry on her for a few more minutes before Tillie finally pulled her away. Even as she departed, Diana was there with her half-eaten plate of food in one hand, and a handful of napkins proffered in the other.

“You’re an angel, Diana,” Anne sighed, taking the napkins to dab at the wet spots on her dress. “What am I going to do without you?”

“Hm,” was all Diana said in response, making Anne frown. Before she could say anything, though--

“Anne. Hey.”

Anne spun around at the familiar voice. “Gil,” she said, just a little breathlessly. “Hey.”

“Sorry I, uh, took so long to come find you,” Gil said, rubbing slightly at the back of his neck. “Had to make sure that my dad was squared away and everything, you know.”

“Oh--yeah, of course,” Anne said. “How is…?”

“About as well as can be expected,” Gil said. “Last I saw, he was catching up with Marilla. And Bash and Mary both said they’d keep an eye on him. They were practically shoving me to go off and talk to you, in fact.” He chuckled slightly. “So I know he’s in good hands.”

Anne smiled softly. “That’s--”

“Oh, Anne!”

The three of them turned toward the voice. “Oh,” Anne said quietly, at the same time that Diana murmured, “Oh, dear.” Rachel Lynde was bustling through the crowd at them like a woman on a mission, which she usually was.

“Anne,” she said again as she approached. “Oh, finally I found you. Quite a crowd, this, isn’t it?”

“I mean, yes,” Anne said. “It’s a little… overwhelming, having so many people show up for me.”

“Well, and why wouldn’t they?” Mrs. Lynde’s busy demeanor suddenly stilled, giving way to something heavier and more serious. “Well, that is, I suppose… I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, Anne, and it’s come to me that I said some… unkind things, when you first showed up. Both about you, and about Will-o-Wisp. And I figure I should say, I’m sorry, and I was wrong. You really are…” she lay a hand on Anne’s shoulder, “you  _ really _ are an extraordinary girl.”

“I, um… thank you.”

“Well.” Mrs. Lynde’s demeanor was suddenly animated again. “Gilbert, good to see you. How’s your father doing?”

“Oh--well enough, Mrs. Lynde, thank you.”

“Good to hear. And Diana of course--joined at the hip as usual, I see. Well.” Mrs. Lynde nodded. “I should probably catch my husband before he clears out the banquet table. Congratulations, Anne, and best of luck to you in Halifax.” With that, she bustled back off into the crowd.

Anne let out a long breath.

“Need a moment?” Diana asked in her ear. When Anne simply nodded, she gave Gil a significant look, and together the two of them maneuvered Anne through the house and out the back door. The backyard, thankfully, seemed to be deserted for the moment. Anne sank into one of the deck chairs with a heavy groan.

“Big night, eh?” Gil asked.

“No,” sighed Anne. “I mean, yes, obviously it is. But it’s really just… I’m going to be leaving all of this behind.” Diana and Gil were silent, so she continued. “It just didn’t seem real, all this time that I’ve been planning it. I’m going to Halifax tomorrow, and living there for the foreseeable future. I’m leaving behind the first real home I’ve ever known, the closest thing to parents I can remember having, my first and only bosom friend, and… and you, Gil…”

She trailed off, allowing a heavy silence to descend over the three of them. It was broken moments later by Gil making a noise that was unmistakably a stifled laugh.

She turned in her seat to glare at him. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.

“Shit, sorry, I…” He pressed a hand to his mouth, fighting a losing battle to keep a grin from spreading across his face. “Oh, jeez, I can’t do this anymore. Diana, do you want to tell her or should I?”

“This is about the most opportune time we could ask for, isn’t it?” Diana placed a gentle hand on Anne’s arm, smiling as she turned to her in confusion. “Anne… you know that Wallace High accepts boarding students?”

Anne found herself unaccountably short of breath. “You don’t mean…?”

Diana’s smile grew wider, and she flicked a mischievous glance at Gil. “Well, the two of us got to talking all those months ago… they take in promising students from all over the country, and we both have excellent grades, so we figured it was worth taking a shot at applying. We didn’t want to get your hopes up about it just in case it didn’t work out, but…”

“Our acceptance letters showed up earlier this month,” Gil finished. “Diana was the one who suggested surprising you with the news at your party, so blame her for it.”

Anne’s brain was still struggling to form coherent thoughts. “Diana, you…” she breathed, then turned to Gil. “Gil, your father…?”

“Is in good hands,” Gil answered. “And he’s told me in no uncertain terms that he does  _ not _ want to hold me back from my future. This is going to be a good stepping stone towards getting into medical school someday.”

“And my parents are over the moon about it,” Diana said. “Probably more because of the prestige than because I’ll get to be with my bosom friend, but I’ll take it.”

Anne looked at Diana, then Gil, then Diana again. Without warning, she shot to her feet with a shriek of delight, wrapping Diana up in an embrace so emphatic that it lifted the other girl clear off her feet. “Oh my  _ god,” _ she cried. “I can’t believe--after all this, I still get to go to school with my best friends in the entire world--” She released Diana and pivoted to sweep Gil up in an embrace as well, which he accepted with a slight grunt from the impact. “You couldn’t have told me anything that would have made my happier, my dearly beloved--”

“Is everything all right?” Marilla had appeared at the back door, with Matthew peering out behind her.

“Everything’s better than all right, Marilla,” Anne exclaimed. “My friends are coming with me to Halifax!”

“That’s… goodness, that’s wonderful, Anne,” Marilla said, stepping out onto the deck. “Diana, Gilbert, congratulations to both of you.”

“Thank you, Marilla,” they replied together.

“Well, uh, I think they’re getting ready to do some kind of toast for you in there,” Matthew said. “You, uh, ready to come in?”

“In a moment, Matthew,” Anne said. “I want to take a little more time to savor the happiest moment of my life.”

Soon the moment would end, and she’d be pulled back into the crush of her going-away party. Tomorrow she’d be off to Halifax, ready to join the Wards and begin writing the next chapter in the legend of the hero Will-o-Wisp. There would no doubt be bumps in the road ahead of her, just as there had been plenty in the road behind her so far. But Anne didn’t find herself too worried about that.

At this moment, surrounded by people who she loved and who loved her in turn, she could do  _ anything. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are. Four months, huh? It's weird to think of how much has changed in that time, and yet it doesn't seem like all that long ago.
> 
> Thank you to everybody who read, kudoed, and commented. Feedback really keeps me going on these long-haul projects, and I always looked forward to hearing from you all whenever a new chapter went up. I wasn't really sure what kind of reception this fic was going to get--Worm and Anne with an E are *wildly* different, after all--but my stats page says this is my most-subscribed fic to date, so clearly it went over at least decently well.
> 
> But! Eyes to the future. I'm sure that gigantic sequel hook I left dangling there wasn't lost on a lot of you. The fact is, there's a lot of things that didn't fit into this story, ideas I had that I never got the chance to flesh out and explore. For a while there I was feeling a bit burnt out, and unsure when or if I would be up to pushing ahead with those, but wrapping up the last two chapters has re-energized me and got the creative juices flowing, and I've got some story notes and the beginnings of an outline to show for it.
> 
> So I feel comfortable saying this for sure: Anne Shirley-Cuthbert as Will-o-Wisp will be returning in Anne of the Wards.
> 
> (But it's not over just yet! Click on over to the next chapter for some bonus material that I threw together for fun. Thanks again, and I'll see you all soon!)


	15. PRT Files

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some bonus material I threw together for fun. Hope you all enjoy.

> Connecting to Parahuman Response Team network...

> Credentials accepted. Accessing Maritime region database...

> Retrieving parahuman dossier files...

###  **HALIFAX WARDS**

**Parahuman Alias:** Will-o-Wisp

**Civilian Identity:** Anne Shirley-Cuthbert (partially compromised)

**PRT Rating:** Breaker/Changer 4, Mover 5

**Notes:** Breaker state is a form of exotic matter capable of near-infinite malleability restricted by its original mass. This form seems to remain susceptible to impact but less susceptible to actual harm, though user reports feeling a sensation analogous to pain when taking hits in Breaker state. Secondary Mover ability allows teleportation with a maximum limit of approx. 50 meters, not requiring line of sight, but not allowing other entities or objects to be carried along.

**Parahuman Alias:** Fleshcrafter

**Civilian Identity:** Cole MacKenzie (partially compromised)

**PRT Rating:** Master 6, Brute 2

**Notes:** Able to extrude fleshy growths that are shaped into animal-like minions of varying anatomical configurations and capabilities. The “design” of these minions appears to be limited by biological plausibility and the user’s own understanding of the anatomy involved (by his own admission, complex capabilities such as flight or venom are “difficult”). Creating minions too large saps the user’s stamina, but they can be created small and induced to grow over the course of several hours. Secondary Brute power enables “hardening” of the user’s own flesh against physical attack.

###  **HALIFAX PROTECTORATE**

**Parahuman Alias:** Triple Threat

**Civilian Identity:** [classified]

**PRT Rating:** Trump (Brute 1-7, Blaster 1-7, Mover 1-7)

**Notes:** Variable-power Trump with a set of three powers, able to strengthen any of the three at the cost of weakening the others. As a rule of thumb, user is able to maintain a single power at rating 7 with the other two at rating 1; two powers at rating 5 with the other one at rating 1; or all three powers at rating 3. Adjusting this balance requires a few moments of concentration. Individual power scales are as follows:

  * Brute: At lowest rating, user has marginally enhanced strength and toughness. At highest rating, user is able to lift and absorb hits from an object with the mass of a semitruck.
  * Blaster: At lowest rating, user is capable of launching short-range, low-intensity concussive blasts from his hands. At highest rating, user is capable of throwing spheres of powerful concussive force with a radius of roughly two meters.
  * Mover: At lowest rating, user is able to hover a few centimeters off the ground and drift at roughly walking speed. At highest rating, user has a top flight speed approaching 130 kph.



**Parahuman Alias:** Dynamo

**Civilian Identity:** [classified]

**PRT Rating:** Tinker 6 (Blaster/Shaker 4, Mover 2, Master 1)

**Notes:** Electromechanical Tinker with a specialty in producing and manipulating various forms of energy fields. Applications known to date include energy-based weaponry, repulsion fields enabling hovering and flight, and “hard light” fields capable of acting as barriers.

**Parahuman Alias:** Obligé

**Civilian Identity:** [classified]

**PRT Rating:** Blaster/Shaker 5

**Notes:** Able to “tag” objects with a blast of energy, which then enables them to be manipulated psychokinetically. Ability is Manton-limited, only working on non-living material. User is capable of controlling an upper limit of approximately one dozen distinct objects at a time.

**Parahuman Alias:** Oculus (deceased)

**Civilian Identity:** Holland Wise (declassified post-mortem)

**PRT Rating:** Master/Thinker 4

**Notes:** Creates “eye drones” capable of relaying visual information back to the user. Control radius for these drones is approximately 1 kilometer. User is capable of maintaining up to four drones before combined visual information becomes too much to parse; unknown if this could be improved with practice. KIA during Leviathan attack on Miami.

###  **REGIONAL VILLAINS**

**Parahuman Alias:** Trouncer

**Civilian Identity:** Regan Arthur

**PRT Rating:** Mover/Shaker 4

**Notes:** Makes superhuman leaps (up to approximately 10 meters) that produce concussive shockwaves on impact with the ground or an object. Also displays an enhanced capacity for mid-air maneuvering.

**Parahuman Alias:** Spew

**Civilian Identity:** Oliver Reeves

**PRT Rating:** Blaster/Shaker 5

**Notes:** Projectile-vomits globs of red-hot gunk that evaporate away over the course of a few minutes. Throat and mouth are clearly impervious to the heat of this gunk, though it is unknown if this imperviousness extends to the rest of the body.

**Parahuman Alias:** Rhinohide

**Civilian Identity:** Natalia Malone

**PRT Rating:** Brute 5

**Notes:** Takes in hard material (e.g. rock, asphalt, metal) from the surrounding environment, forming it into a tough armor. Displays enhanced strength sufficient to move the weight of this armor at speeds equal to a normal, unencumbered human.


End file.
